


like ghosts in the snow

by thisisfunghoul



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: 2jae will still occur so stay tuned for that lol, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catholic Guilt, Dancer Kim Yugyeom, Dancer Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam, Depression, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Past Domestic Violence, Past Sexual Assault, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Producer Im Jaebum | JB, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Seven Deadly Sins, Sexual Content, Singer Jackson Wang, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, actually pls don't i work really hard on this fic, yes im doing hyungline endgame sue me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25081663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisfunghoul/pseuds/thisisfunghoul
Summary: Seven men, each one possessing one of the seven deadly sins and a little more. It all unravels when they meet their counterparts.
Relationships: Choi Youngjae/Im Jaebum | JB, Im Jaebum | JB/Jackson Wang, Im Jaebum | JB/Mark Tuan, Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung, Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung/Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang, Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Kim Yugyeom, Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang, Park Jinyoung/Jackson Wang, Park Jinyoung/Mark Tuan
Comments: 43
Kudos: 72





	1. Hooked

**Author's Note:**

> as you might have noticed, i'm not good at summaries lol. i didn't wanna reveal too much about the story so maybe i'll update it later
> 
> there's gonna be individual trigger warnings beside the tags as the story progresses so keep an eye on the notes at the beginning for each chapter  
> also each chapter will consist of at least two character povs
> 
> that's all for now!! this is my first fic so i hope you enjoy it :))

It was impossible not to see him.

He was half-sitting-half-leaning on one of the sofas in the waiting area; left leg on the floor and right leg on the arm of the sofa, his arm on the back, not touching the woman sitting next to him on the actual cushion despite basically having his arm around her, gesturing with his other hand now and then as he spoke. His eyes turned to Jackson as he entered through the double doors and took a few steps forward towards the front desk, his gaze lingering on his body for a couple of seconds before turning back to the magazine the woman had on her lap. Jackson pretended not to pay attention to them as he continued towards the desk.

There was no one at the desk. Apparently, it was Jackson’s lucky day.

He sighed, pretending to be annoyed, and sat down on the sofa next to theirs, grabbing a magazine from the coffee table for himself. He kept his eyes on the pages and just listened for a while but they weren't talking much either, so it was only the sound of turning pages and occasional comments from the man, followed by the woman's agreement or counter arguments. Jackson was careful not to stare at them, but he saw out of the corner of his eye that the man would now and then steal a glance at him.

“I’m sorry," Jackson finally spoke after a few minutes of waiting and testing the waters. "are you also waiting for the receptionist?"

They both raised their heads to look at him. "She is,” the man answered, as Jackson thought he would. “I just sort of work here.”

“Oh?” _Jackpot_. “What do you do?"

"Take a guess." Playful, Jackson noted in his head. The woman let out a faint sigh and turned her gaze back to the magazine, her long auburn hair falling on the page. Jackson had a feeling that this wasn't the first time she was in this situation.

“A&R?"

He chuckled. "Only if you consider dragging people I want to work with to the studio as 'talent scouting'."

Jackson shrugged, smiling. "It was wishful thinking anyway. I'm supposed to meet someone from A&R, it would be great if it was you."

"So you're a singer?" he raised his eyebrows.

"More like trying to be."

He leaned more towards the sofa, resting his head on his propped up elbow. Now that he could safely stare at him, he noticed how handsome he actually was. He was wearing a black, patterned shirt with ripped black jeans and his dark hair was long enough to touch his shoulders. 

His subtle smirk, his dark eyes and his daring posture made it clear: Even if Jackson wasn't looking for someone like him, he would definitely notice him.

At that moment, the receptionist came through the door and the woman on the sofa raised to her feet, tossing the magazine on top of the pile on the coffee table. "Finally," she said, approaching the front desk. "I was beginning to think you forgot our lunch date." The receptionist, a short, blonde woman with warm but tired eyes, smiled at her and apologized before noticing Jackson, her eyes widening.

"It's okay," the man said behind him. "I got this one." He pointed to Jackson with his head, which made her relax and nod silently but gratefully. The two women left hand in hand as Jackson turned to the man, and noticed that he was taller now that they were both standing up.

Jackson wasn't sure if he chose this man as his target or if it was the other way around.

"I'm Jaebeom, by the way," he said, extending his hand. "People call me JB sometimes."

"Jackson," he shook his hand, trying not to look too excited.

"So, who were you supposed to meet?"

"Uh," Jackson pretended trying to remember, like he did not research the name of this A&R on every site he could in order to collect any useful information, only to end up empty handed. "Someone named Brandon? We were supposed to talk over lunch."

Jaebeom scoffed. "Well, nevermind him. He probably wouldn't sign you anyway, he's too picky. _I,_ on the other hand…" He looked him up and down before his eyes settled on Jackson's again. "I could give you a chance to impress me."

Jackson felt his lips curling. Everything was going according to the plan. "Lunch, then?"

"Yup. Follow me."

* * *

Shortly after they met at the headquarters Jaebeom helped Jackson officially get signed and they immediately started to work on his album. Even from the minute they met there was always some tension in the air, which grew unbearable day by day, moment by moment. Jackson was playing his cards well, touching him subtly but in the right spots when he least expected it- or the glance he threw him through the glass in the recording room every time he received a compliment. Jaebeom didn’t refrain from responding of course, although he was more careful that no one else noticed anything. He also knew this thing was going to blow up any second, he just didn’t want to be the one to pull the pin because that would mean admitting defeat.

It took two weeks of mutual teasing, a couple of lustful thoughts and a frustrating day to break him.

They were working late that day, per Jackson’s request, which suited him fine since he was upset about something that happened earlier and ready to overwork himself in order to forget his worries. Although he thought work would be the primary focus that would distract him, he wasn’t complaining when he noticed Jackson had other ideas in mind. They still got some work done though, writing new parts for a song or two and playing with different effects to find the most suitable ones for the feel Jackson wanted for the album. They even got some recording done. It was just the way he always brushed his arm against Jaebeom when he reached over a button or a switch on the mixing board or the way his eyes shined when he was excited about a new thing they added to a song or the way he ran his fingers through his hair while he was thinking and-

Yes, it was very hard to focus on something else.

He was leaning over the scattered sheets of paper on the table, trying to find the thing that is missing in the songs. Jackson was also leaning next to him, perhaps too close, and he carefully placed his hand between Jaebeom’s shoulder blades, touching a particular spot as he pointed out a fairly insignificant thing about the lyrics. That was when Jaebeom finally snapped.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

He slowly turned to Jackson, standing straight, and he looked almost offended for a second, but it was gone in an instant, like it was just Jaebeom’s imagination, and he fixed his face with a smirk that confirmed they were on the same page. “Always,” he replied. The determined tone in his voice was, however, pretty much real.

Jaebeom rested his palms on the table, leaning back. It was his turn to be playful. "So what, you dragged me here for overtime… just to fuck?"

Jackson scoffed at the remark. "As if you haven't been thinking about it since the first time you laid eyes on me."

Jaebeom didn't know how to respond to that. Jackson was good at this, he knew just what to say and delivered it with confidence. This trait of his reminded him of someone else, but he quickly dispelled the thought, not allowing his mind to wander there. Instead, he focused on the man beside him and let out a chuckle. "How do you manage to leave me speechless?"

Jackson just shrugged. "It's my special power. You see," He moved to stand in front of Jaebeom. "I'm not an ordinary person." He leaned in just a little, his eyes fixed somewhere on Jaebeom's shoulder as he picked up a piece of lint off his t-shirt. He didn't pull back as he locked eyes with him again, his breath tickling Jaebeom's face when he spoke: "I'm something more."

 _That_ was how Jackson drove him insane: He would always get _so_ close, but never close enough. This time though, Jaebeom had no intention of letting him get away with it.

He put both hands on Jackson's neck to pull him in, and when they started kissing, it felt like electricity. He kept leaning back and Jackson kept pushing, so he was nearly lying on the table as the kiss got more heated in just a matter of seconds. 

Sadly, this had to be cut short because there was someone outside.

Jaebeom pushed Jackson away as soon as he heard the cleaner’s whistling accompanied by the sound of the mop bucket he wheeled around with him. They parted just in time before the cleaner entered the studio, so they could pretend to be doing something less intimate. He apologized and said he didn’t know there was anyone working late. Jaebeom quickly recovered the situation by saying they were leaving anyway, and Jackson nodded to confirm, a contented expression on his face.

And that was how Jaebeom ended up taking Jackson home.

As soon as they stepped inside the apartment and closed the door, Jackson kissed him. He let his fingers tangle in Jaebeom's hair, pulling until his head fell back, a soft gasp escaping his lips. "Don't bruise," he mumbled under his breath as Jackson started sucking on his neck, to which he whined but obeyed, only planting soft kisses when his lips hovered over his Adam's apple. As pleasant as this was, there was a downside: Jaebeom got bored of this quite soon. He decided to take control again, so he yanked him away by the hair. Jackson groaned at the harsh move, and when their eyes met, Jaebeom saw anticipation in his eyes.

He slammed Jackson against the wall, attacking his lips. Jackson let him control the kiss but responded with equal force, equal hunger, hands tugging on Jaebeom’s shirt in a desperate attempt to keep himself grounded. As they struggled with each other’s clothes they bumped into the shoe cabinet, causing a small earthquake, and when he turned his head to check what they knocked over, the framed picture of him and Jinyoung caught Jaebeom’s eye.

An unfamiliar sensation, a pinch of guilt slipped in his mind. Sure, it wasn't the first time he cheated, but it was the first time he brought someone else to their home.

To Jaebeom’s defense, his boyfriend went to another state for two days because some casting agency offered him a role and he wanted to audition. They even had a fight about it before he left and he practically slammed the door and left Jaebeom- though not permanently, he hoped. Even before that they weren’t always in good terms, especially the last few weeks there was a baseless tension between them that caused them to fight over the stupidest things. Jaebeom often wondered if it was because of him and his failing will to control his urges. He wondered if his boyfriend somehow knew about the dreams he kept having about this pretty boy and how he could barely contain himself when he was in the studio with him.

To his defense, Jackson looked like he could break _any_ will if he wanted to- not that Jaebeom had a strong one anyway.

Jackson's lips found their way to his neck once more, apparently couldn’t stay idle for a second. He pushed his head away again, gently this time, ignored his whine and looked at his eyes.

"So," Jackson said, breathless and impatient. His hair was already messed up, and he looked so hungry as he licked his lips. "Are we gonna fuck or not?"

All other thoughts immediately disappeared from Jaebeom's head.

He grabbed Jackson by the wrist and dragged him to the bedroom, closing the door before he pushed him until he fell backwards on the bed, and climbed on top, proceeding to undress him at the same time. When everything was finally off, he muttered a curse under his breath, awestruck by how _beautiful_ Jackson looked under him. Not just his toned body but also the way he sunk his teeth down his bottom lip and the way he looked up at Jaebeom with so much appetite, his soft brown eyes still having a hint of innocence even behind that sultry expression.

Jackson let out a breathy chuckle as Jaebeom slowly traced his muscles with first his fingers then his mouth, looking pleased that he liked his exposed form. He told him not to bother with so much prep as Jaebeom retrieved a condom and a bottle of lube from the nightstand, "I'm already loose," he added.

Jaebeom was surprised, but damned if it didn’t turn him on. "You got yourself ready for me?"

"Yeah."

Another curse slipped out of Jaebeom's mouth. "You're unbelievable."

They picked up the pace quickly after that, now both of them fully naked, feverishly kissing and grinding to each other. Jaebeom pinned Jackson’s hands above his head as he broke the kiss. “How hard do you want it?” he asked. He knew from the look in his eyes that Jackson would take it as a dare.

“Make me beg for mercy.” 

Still, his response sent shivers down Jaebeom’s spine.

“Gladly.”

He grabbed Jackson’s hips and turned him over with a sharp movement, earning a gasp from the man, then guided him to get on his knees, pushing his head down on the pillow. He inserted two fingers at once to test him, easily moving them in and out- Jackson wasn’t lying about preparing, it seemed. Jaebeom still found a way to get the reaction he wanted though. He started using his tongue while also crooking his fingers in different angles to find the spot, making Jackson moan and whimper against the pillow.

Jackson was already panting when Jaebeom pulled out his fingers to finally ready himself. Without skipping a beat or letting him breathe, he pushed in all the way. Curses flowed out of Jackson’s lips as Jaebeom slammed his hips hard into his own. The sound of flesh smacking together echoed in the room, accompanied by Jackson’s incoherent murmurs and Jaebeom’s occasional growls. 

He fisted Jackson’s hair to pull his head back, causing another moan, but it wasn’t enough- he needed to be closer. “Up,” he said, tapping his hand on his chest, and Jackson obeyed, pressing his back to Jaebeom’s chest, who now slowed down a little and set up a steady rhythm. His head fell back as Jaebeom pressed his lips on his shoulder, travelling up his neck. He drew in a shaky breath and felt around with his hand to grab Jaebeom’s hair with a weak grip, stroking himself with the other hand as he turned his head to kiss him sloppily but desperately. Jaebeom could taste salt and wasn’t sure if it was sweat or tears.

“You okay?” he asked. Jackson’s grip in his hair tightened. He nodded, eyes still closed, lips brushing his.

“Don’t you dare stop.” Despite the shaky breaths and whimpers escaping his lips, his voice was confident as always. Jaebeom _loved_ that.

He flipped Jackson over again on his back, not losing any second to lean down and attack his lips, his thrusts getting faster once more. It wasn’t long before Jackson reached climax with Jaebeom’s name on his lips, spilling his seed on his own stomach. Jaebeom came shortly after, biting down somewhere on Jackson’s chest.

Jaebeom liked sex. It felt good. It kept his mind off of things, distracted him enough to not feel guilty about it. He had been like that for a while, distracting himself with pleasure- in different ways and with different people. He was good at it. It felt comfortable.

He tossed the dirty condom aside, then fixed his gaze on the gorgeous man in his bed. His breaths got slower, almost normal now, and the hunger was no longer in his eyes, leaving only this soft, somewhat tired look in the shiny brown irises. He leaned down to collect his cum on his tongue, licking his stomach clean as Jackson’s fingers gently caressed his hair, then pulled him close to engage in a lazy kiss.

“So… That was fun.”

Jaebeom smirked. “Did you expect anything less?”

Jackson was about to answer when there was a loud noise coming from just outside the room that made both of them jump.

"What was that?"

“It’s probably the cat,” Jaebeom groaned in annoyance and fell down on the bed next to him. “She’s so naughty these days.”

Jackson raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure? It was a _very_ loud noise.”

Jaebeom huffed, not liking the smart-ass tone of Jackson’s voice, also not wanting to leave the bed. “Fine, I’ll check it out,” he said as he sat up, pointing a finger at Jackson with a smirk on his face. “You stay right here, I'm not done with you yet.”

He left the bedroom, his eyes looking around for the cat. He found her hiding under the armchair- tail puffy, eyes terrified. He sighed and traced her gaze to find out what she broke this time.

The wall mirror beside the entrance was on the floor- or rather only the frame of it, the glass completely shattered. The same framed picture they had knocked over earlier stood among the broken glass. 

For a second, he was just annoyed. Then it dawned on him. A cat couldn’t have done this.

He hurriedly ran around the house to find his phone and called Jinyoung. It went straight to voicemail.

“ _Fuck._ ”

As he kneeled down and picked up the frame, debating whether or not he should leave a message, he heard Jackson’s footsteps behind him.

“Y-You should go.” He didn’t avert his gaze from the picture.

Jackson tried touching his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “What’s wro-”

“Just go,” he shook his hand off. “Please.”

And he did, throwing Jaebeom a worried look before leaving him to kneel there naked, centimeters away from the mirror pieces with the framed picture in his hand, silently staining the cracked glass with his tears.

No distraction could save him now.


	2. Crash & Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw just in case: very brief mention of past domestic violence

Yugyeom had never been good at sharing. That was why his parents had to stop sending him to daycare when he was just three years old- he would always pick fights with the other kids to take the best toy. Once, his father told him, he saw a random kid at the mall buying the plushie he wanted, and he cried for a whole hour until his parents found and bought one of that same toy. Then, after a day and a half of playing with it, he discarded it under his bed, where his other “expired” toys were.

His father also told him that he was obsessed with his mother to the point of not letting her spend more time with his father than him. She died when he was four- lung cancer, he learned when he was older. He didn’t even remember her now, only the pictures and a faint memory of her singing a lullaby remained. And the feeling of comfort he felt in her arms.

When he was five, his father’s second wife came into the picture, and with her came his older step-brother, Jinyoung.

They were only three years apart but the way he always took care of Yugyeom made him feel like he was older. He was not as hyper as his little brother, in fact, he was usually calm and quiet. His assertive side started showing up more as they grew up, but it was only when he was protecting Yugyeom. Occasionally, Yugyeom would get a mischievous idea and tell Jinyoung, who would unsuccessfully try to talk him out of it, and when they got themselves in trouble eventually, Jinyoung would always defend him, no matter how stupid the idea was in the first place.

Yugyeom always thought they made a good pair.

His father and Jinyoung’s mother would fight a lot. Jinyoung would just take Yugyeom to their room, lay him down on the bed and curl up beside him, softly sing to him and caress his hair or tell him funny stories he made up until they forget about their parents’ yells or the sound of various things breaking in the living room.

He cried so hard when Jinyoung left home after graduating high school. 

He didn’t eat much for a week and he didn’t leave his room, which made his father angrier than usual. “Stop crying after that ungrateful bitch,” he kept saying, lining up insults after one another. No matter how scared he was of his father, Yugyeom still defended his brother. It didn’t end well. It was the first time he actually hit Yugyeom- and without Jinyoung to protect him, he didn’t know what to do. Eventually his step mother took pity on him and intervened. He just cried until he had run out of tears. 

To Yugyeom, Jinyoung was the only one who made that place feel like home. He was the first person he cherished with his whole being after his mom died.

Then there was this boy from high school.

They shared only the dance class, and it was enough, because seeing him dance was what made Yugyeom fall for the boy. He himself had always felt like dancing helped him overcome many things- when he was swaying to the music, he was a different, better version of himself. Jinyoung would encourage him, saying he had a talent, even before it was nothing more than a hobby, a sibling thing they did when their parents weren't home, blasting music and trying out moves they learned on the internet.

But Bambam was not quite like Yugyeom- the way he danced was so elegant and he was oozing with confidence, pulling you in slowly before you even realized it. He was truly mesmerising. Yugyeom didn't know what he wanted more- to be with him or to _be_ him.

Unfortunately, Yugyeom wasn't really good with people either- he didn't know how to approach him, let alone forming a bond with him. It also didn't help that the boy was a snob.

Bambam's name was on everyone's lips at the school but before he actually saw him in class Yugyeom wasn't really intrigued by him, in fact, he even disliked him. He thought he was just another wealthy popular kid with a gigantic ego, boasting everything he owned and did. Bambam was like that, yes, but he was also _more_. He lived as he performed- pulling you in with his aura. And it seemed Yugyeom was caught in it deeper than everyone else.

He thought he wouldn't see him again after high school. He was delighted to be wrong- because a few years, a couple of _miracles_ and the help of a friend of a friend -that actually also sort of became his friend- later, there he was: Living in his modest but elegant 2+1 apartment, bought with the money he earned by dancing in front of tens of thousands of people with none other than his crush since high school by his side, spending his days with doing the thing he loves.

Don’t get him wrong- he was _grateful._ But his infatuation made it a little hard to accept this as good enough.

And, to be fair, it felt lonely sometimes.

It was past midnight and he was practising the latest choreography they made, wanting to perfect his parts before their practice session tomorrow with Bambam and their backup dancers, when he heard the doorbell ring.

He sighed, annoyed. He didn’t like surprise guests.

He turned off the music and went towards the door to look through the peephole. Then he quickly checked the place to hide anything he didn't want his visitor to see before opening the door.

“You could’ve told me you were coming, you know.” He narrowed his eyes at the familiar figure.

Jinyoung mumbled an apology, sniffing, his head hung down. Yugyeom's gaze softened.

“Jinyoung- Are you crying?”

“Maybe?"

He beckoned to his brother to come inside, noticing the duffel bag in his hand. He knew Jinyoung went on a business trip and he knew he was nervous, they talked about it before he left for his flight. But Jinyoung wasn’t the type of person to appear at his door unannounced, barely holding back tears, just because of an audition gone bad. Something more must have happened. Something personal.

He sat down next to him on the couch and gently put a hand on his shoulder, then started bombarding him with questions.

“What happened? Are you okay? Did you get mugged? Did your boyfriend dump you?”

Jinyoung only reacted to the last one, so he stopped, waiting for him to speak.

“I caught him with another man,” he said, eyes tired and sad as he looked at Yugyeom. “In _our_ bedroom.”

Yugyeom had never liked Jaebeom. He smoked, flirted too much with basically everyone, and usually acted irresponsibly. He had always thought Jaebeom wasn’t good for Jinyoung and tried to tell his brother that, but he brushed it off it with a chuckle and a “Don’t worry too much about me, that’s _my_ job to do.”

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t a little too happy to hear that Jaebeom really turned out to be a snake.

“Can I stay here for now?” Jinyoung asked in the tiniest voice.

But seeing his brother vulnerable like that made him feel worse.

“Of course. Anything you need.”

He pulled Jinyoung into a hug and let him bury his face in his shoulder as he took shuddering breaths.

"You’re with me now," Yugyeom said, hiding his smile in Jinyoung's hair. _Like old times_ , he thought. “It's all going to be alright.”

* * *

Jinyoung could hazily remember finding the framed picture on the floor. Picking it up. Throwing it at the mirror with full force. Storming out.

But he couldn't forget the voices coming from their bedroom.

He couldn't forget the sinking feeling in his stomach.

The rest was blurry. The rest was all red and nothing else until he found himself at Yugyeom's doorstep.

Now he was back at the apartment. Perhaps for the last time. He unlocked the door and stepped in.

The first thing he noticed was the absence of the mirror on the wall, any trace of it was gone. The second was the framed picture, which was still there on the shoe cabinet, but was face down. He picked it up, glancing at their picture through the damaged glass. It was a silly picture of that one time they accidentally wore matching t-shirts, but they had so much fun that day. It was one of their early dates, and it was when Jinyoung realized that he was falling in love. So he thought it would make a good gift and had it framed when they moved in together.

Let alone remembering those days, even looking at the picture made him furious.

Just as he put the picture back, facing down again, Jaebeom walked out of the bedroom. He stopped within a safe distance, his eyes not daring to meet Jinyoung. His left hand was sloppily bandaged. He must have cut it while picking up the mirror pieces, Jinyoung thought, and realized that his gaze had softened for a moment. He quickly turned his expression into a frown, angry at himself for feeling sorry for his now ex-boyfriend. _He_ brought it onto himself. He _deserved_ this. That was what Jinyoung needed to remind himself.

“I came to get my stuff.” Precise and to the point. No emotion, no unnecessary sincerity. That was how they were going to be now: just colleagues, only talking business if they needed to. He made his move towards the bedroom to get his clothes, but stopped in his tracks when Jaebeom spoke.

“Don’t you think we need to talk?”

Jinyoung couldn’t help but scoff. “You betrayed our relationship and we're breaking up. What more is there to talk about?”

This made Jaebeom frown, an expression Jinyoung was not familiar with seeing on his face. He had always been a raised eyebrows and cocky smiles type of person.

“Were you just waiting for the last straw, then? At least be honest about it. You know,” he leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “We’ve never been perfect anyway. Especially lately.”

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. “Don’t compare our petty fights to _this_. We fought about anything-”

“Exactly! We fight over the stupidest shit. We fought just before you left, even. We’re like a married couple who hasn’t fucked in years.”

“Were,” he said coldly. He really didn’t want to deal with this. He was just going to get his things and go, there was no point in lingering. “I don’t want to see you anymore.” He made his move towards the door. Jaebeom blocked his way.

“Jinyoung, please-”

“Jaebeom, I swear-” he was shouting now. “Get out of my way or I’ll-”

"Or what?” He yelled back. “Are you gonna smash something again? Maybe my fucking head this time?"

"You-" 

He stopped. His lips parted, no sound coming out. He blinked. 

Voice wavering, he said, "How dare you say that? I've never hurt you."

"Yet."

His hands curled into tight fists, but he shook his head. He wanted to say he would never hurt Jaebeom, even if he hated him. He didn't.

Instead, "You should've broken up with me then," he said between gritted teeth. "Before going for someone else." He walked past him to finally enter the bedroom. _This is the last time_ , he reminded himself. He just needed to endure this once.

“You’re right,” Jaebeom said slowly. “I messed up. I admit it. And I’m _sorry_. I don’t even know how to make it up to you.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” he spat as he moved around, gathering his things and shoving them in a suitcase. “Just go to your other boyfriend. He’ll comfort you.”

“Jackson’s not-” he groaned. “He’s just some new guy at the label. I’m producing his album. It was _meaningless._ ”

Jinyoung just hummed, not even looking up. Nevertheless, he acknowledged the name: _Jackson._ It sounded familiar. Maybe he already bumped into him at the studio and didn’t have a clue. He heard Jaebeom sigh.

“And he wasn't the first one.” 

Jinyoung froze.

“What?” 

He looked up from the pile of clothes to see Jaebeom, arms folded, head up high. 

“Yes, Jinyoung, you were so damn slow.”

He was taunting him, and Jinyoung knew it. But he couldn’t help it- Jaebeom still got under his skin like he intended to. He could feel his whole body tensing up.

“Did you fuck everyone in the studio you fucking whore?!”

He only realized that he moved closer and trapped Jaebeom between him and the wall when he felt his breath on his face. He saw Jaebeom’s eyes shift for a moment, but he didn’t flinch. He kept his chin up.

“Everytime you made me feel like shit for no real reason,” he said slowly, his voice lower than normal as if to contrast with Jinyoung’s yelling. “I found comfort in other things- and sometimes other people.”

Neither of them moved nor broke eye contact. “So, go on,” he added. “Blame me for it. Blame it _all_ on me so you can pretend you’re a saint. You’re used to being perfect anyway.”

Jinyoung could feel his whole body trembling with anger. It took all his self control not to punch a hole on the wall next to Jaebeom’s face.

He exhaled loudly and backed away from him.

“Do you know why I came home early? Why I didn’t stay two days like I was supposed to?”

Jaebeom just raised his eyebrows, not losing his composure one bit as he stood at the same spot with his back against the wall.

“They told me it would take at least six months to shoot,” he continued. “I would be living there for six whole months. I knew you couldn’t leave the studio and come with me for that long. And I thought- I thought it wouldn’t be fair to you.” 

Jaebeom was shocked. He looked into Jinyoung’s eyes like he was searching for an indication that he was lying. As if this was all a joke. “What are you saying-”

“I got the part, Jaebeom. And I dropped it. Just because I was afraid it would damage our relationship.”

Without waiting for his reaction, he closed and grabbed his suitcase and walked out of the bedroom. Jaebeom, of course, followed.

"Jinyoung," he said softly behind him. Desperate last attempts, Jinyoung thought, but still stopped and turned to listen to him. _Pathetic._ "We can still make it work. I promise nothing like this will ever happen again. But you need to own up to your own faults too."

The laugh Jinyoung let out was so mocking, so _cruel_ that he saw absolute disbelief on Jaebeom’s face. 

"I don’t think you’re worth the effort anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not really satisfied with this chapter but eh,, did you match the sins with the members so far?  
> hope you enjoyed it & please let me know what you think!<3


	3. Sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was afraid this was gonna be a short chapter but it ended up being 4k words????  
> anyways sorry for the late update i had a huge writer's block
> 
> TW// self harm mention

**“** Oh my  _ god.  _ How are you even still alive?”

When Mark invited Youngjae to play Breath of the Wild together, he thought it would be just one of their casual gaming nights they did every now and then: Playing whatever game they chose until the sunrise and stuffing themselves with junk food. Sometimes, alcohol was involved- especially if the game was a bad one. For this evening, however, Youngjae brought along something other than snacks and beverages.

He brought Yugyeom.

“Do you ever clean?" The uninvited guest continued as he paced around the room, collecting empty pizza boxes and beer cans and other various trash scattered around. "Or open a window, the curtains? Do you even leave the house?”

“Stop meddling with my apartment!” Mark yelled, making Yugyeom stop and visibly jump from his place beside the window as he was about to pull the curtains, which made Mark instantly regret it, so he lowered his voice to a normal level. “I didn’t even invite you. If you don’t like it, leave.”

There was a moment of silence. Yugyeom didn’t dare lift his gaze from the floor.

“I’m just worried about you, that’s all,” he mumbled, sulking. He looked like a child whenever he did that, reminding Mark that he was younger, even if it was just a few years. “You’re not really making progress, you know.”

His words, though, indicated the opposite. Like Yugyeom cared for him like an older brother. The truth was, Yugyeom wasn't the caring type- not towards him anyways. Mark didn't know why he suddenly changed- maybe because Mark introduced him to Bambam and got him his dream job he was still feeling sort of indebted, which made him feel responsible for Mark's well-being, for some reason. He wasn't sure. But he was annoyed.

He sighed and turned his attention to Youngjae, who offered him an apologetic smile. “Why did you bring him along?”

“I bumped into him on my way and he wouldn’t take no for an answer." He shrugged. "He said he missed you.”

"Cute," he scoffed, turning towards Yugyeom who was smiling sheepishly, pointing a finger at him. "I'll still kick you out if you don't just sit down."

Yugyeom huffed, but took a seat on the armchair as Mark and Youngjae took their spot on the couch facing the television, as they always did, leaving a space enough for one invisible person between them.

Mark wasn’t even sure how him and Yugyeom became friends. He met Youngjae online a few years ago, and after playing a few rounds of Overwatch together, they hit it off. It took them months before actually meeting at Mark’s apartment, because for a long time Youngjae was very reluctant to stop playing games to leave his dorm room. That was where Yugyeom came into the picture. The two were roommates at the time, studying different majors at the same university, and when Yugyeom learned that Mark invited Youngjae countless times but he declined, he managed to annoy Youngjae into going.

And one day, just like this one, he decided to tag along, without telling Mark.

Mark was very surprised to learn that Yugyeom had heard of him- he knew his little dancing crew with Bambam had gathered some attention among some circles, but he didn’t expect a random acquaintance to know about it, especially when they haven’t done anything for almost a year because Mark declared that he needed a break after the accident.

After discovering that Yugyeom’s dancing skills were too good to take for granted -it was safe to say he was even better than Mark- he connected the two dots together. He already felt bad for letting Bambam down like that, so when he found a much better replacement for himself, he gave him a chance.

The result was astounding for both parties.

"Oh! I know what you need," Yugyeom chirped excitedly while Mark was in the middle of fighting a boss in the game, causing him to miss the cue to dodge and die. "A roommate,” Yugyeom continued. “That way, you'll at least have to keep the shared spaces neat  _ and _ have daily human interaction because no," he raised his hand to stop Mark when he opened his mouth, "voice chatting while playing online games  _ doesn't _ count."

Mark pouted. "But I don't _ want _ human interaction."

Yugyeom put his hand on his shoulder and smiled sarcastically. "I know. That's why I'm forcing you."

He threw Youngjae a helpless glance but the younger man shook his head. "He's right, you know," he said. "I’d move in with you but it would probably ruin our friendship, besides, you don't ever listen to me. You need someone far more strict to make you get your shit together."

That was more or less how he ended up having a roommate after living alone for more than two years.

The candidates poured in after Yugyeom put up an ad for him on a website -because the apartment was pretty decent if not luxurious, and the rent they set up was fairly cheap- but Mark would dismiss most of them just by looking at their profiles or after a minute of talking on the phone. When Yugyeom found this out, he took over the account to do the elimination himself, only notifying Mark when there would be people coming to see the house. It was annoying having random people enter his house, his safe space, but he was also secretly glad that someone else was doing the work for him.

Jackson was the third candidate of the day and the seventh of the week to visit the apartment.

He walked around the apartment silently for a while, inspecting everything, then he said, "Okay." Plain and simple. "I'll take it."

Just like that, he entered Mark's life.

And as soon as he did, he turned everything upside down.

"I arranged the fridge a little," he said to Mark an hour after a truck he hired dropped off his things, moving a bit closer to the couch to get his attention. "So from now on all of your things are on the left and my things are on the right."

Mark stared blankly at him.

"So we don't eat each other's food?" Mark shrugged. Jackson rolled his eyes. "I also claimed the first three cupboards. They were mostly empty anyway, so."

"Whatever, man," Mark mumbled as he turned towards TV again, unpausing the game.

He heard Jackson huffing before marching off to distort somewhere else in the apartment.

Sometimes, after meddling with the way things were in a certain space within the apartment, he would approach Mark to ask a question.

“Do you,” he would start, add an adverb like “seriously” to emphasize how unbelievable the situation was to him as he continued with something like “never do laundry?” or "not have a broom?" or “only use the microwave?"

Mark would often answer with a shrug, which would never fail to annoy Jackson further.

He gave up asking after a few days.

Which meant he didn’t have a reason to speak to Mark other than smalltalk, and Mark didn’t give him a chance to do that with his nonexistent sleeping and eating schedule to allow them to be in the shared rooms at the same time, and by giving him nothing more than a gesture or, at best, a short answer as a reply.

So the house fell into silence again, just the way Mark liked- except for the unmistakable presence of someone else living in the same space, haunting every room, every corner, even if he didn’t encounter him for days.

That was what Mark tried to focus on as he tried to shake off the after effects of the nightmare he woke up from a few minutes ago. He had walked into the kitchen to drink some water -maybe nibble on some snacks, anything to keep him distracted- and when he noticed the light seeping under the door of Jackson’s room, he was reminded of his existence once more. The sun wasn’t up for at least half an hour yet, so the light indicated that his roommate was also awake. That he wasn’t alone. However, this thought was quickly replaced by his annoyance at Jackson’s presence in  _ his  _ space, although that was the point of why Yugyeom suggested this in the first place.

Jackson brought order to the apartment. He brought rules and borders and drawer organizers. He brought laundry days and taking turns unloading the dishwasher. He brought routine.

Mark hated it. He was used to the sense of chaos around the house. He liked chaos. He was familiar with it.

He tried to hold onto that feeling as he reached out for the matchbox he kept on the range hood. He heard faint murmurs and occasional huffs and puffs coming from Jackson’s room as he took a match out of the box.

He lit the match and watched it burn until the fire reached his fingers. Mark liked fire. It was warm, bright, and alive -the opposite of water, which was wet, colorless and  _ cold _ . Some people considered it calm and pure but to Mark it was a lethal tranquility. Fire helped him get his head together- staring at the brightness as it moved along the match, slowing his breaths not to blow it out. He put the match out a little too late, hissing as the flame licked his skin. He didn’t mind the pain, though. If anything, it helped- after all, to be hurt was to be alive. And at times like this, he would do  _ anything _ to feel alive.

His friend, Youngjae, used to be like him. He went as far as hurting himself to the point of bleeding, and when he told Mark about it as he cried on his couch, clutching at the half-empty vodka bottle in his lap, Mark really thought about trying it himself. The only reason he didn't was that he was afraid it would work.

Thankfully, Youngjae had been clean for a long time now. Nowadays, he was the opposite- drowning his feelings with whatever worked at the moment until it wasn’t enough anymore, and then, he would find something else to numb everything else. Mark knew it wasn't healthy either, but he did all he could- he just couldn't get through to him.

There was the sound of a small crash and a curse that took him out of the depths of his mind and back to the real world. Then the sound of a door opening quickly, followed by footsteps.

"Oh, sorry,” Jackson stopped when he saw Mark by the kitchen counter. He looked tired and annoyed- dark circles under his eyes, his hair messed up, probably from pulling on it too much. “Did I wake you up?"

Mark shook his head. "I’ve been awake for a while."

He poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the island, sipping slowly as his eyes moved over and around Mark, stopping at the burnt match still between his fingers. He tilted his head and raised his gaze to meet Mark’s eyes. Mark was about to ask him if he was alright just to direct the attention away from himself -and because he was  _ a little _ curious- but Jackson beat him to it.

"Do you… want some company?"

Mark raised his eyebrows and blinked at him, which made Jackson realize how that sounded.

"Not in a- I didn't mean-" He stopped. Then he sighed, frowning, like he didn’t know why he even bothered. "Nevermind."

With that, he walked back to his room and locked the door.

The sun was up by now, Mark noticed, burning through the window and casting light shadows on the walls, and the birds started singing.

Maybe he did need some company, he thought. Certainly not Jackson's, though.

He decided to text Youngjae.

  
  


* * *

It always got peacefully quiet around sunrise. After a certain time of the night only drunks and rich college students would be out, and even they would go home when the sun came up, so only him and a couple of other vendors and performers would be left.

And the birds. He could always hear the birds.

For Youngjae, quiet was not always peaceful, so he would start humming a song- sometimes even full on singing when he was too tired to care about not waking up the whole street. This time, he was mumbling London Bridge is Falling Down- a nursery rhyme from his childhood that got stuck in his head for some reason. A soft breeze hit his face, he rested his head back on the wall behind him and closed his eyes. He had a shift in six hours. It was time to go home. Try to get some rest.

He just started packing his things when Miriam, the old lady selling cheap jewelry across the street, also the one who got him this gig, called his name and nodded at a man coming down the street. Youngjae didn’t know the man, so she probably just wanted to inform him of a potential customer. He sighed, then put on his best smile, waiting for the man to get in his range to practice his sales tactics.

He had long black hair that got into his face because of the wind, one hand holding a leather jacket over his shoulder, the other holding a half-burnt cigarette. As he came closer, Youngjae could tell from his red, unfocused eyes that he had either been crying or drinking too much- his guess was probably both.

“Oi, mister!” Miriam was the one getting the man’s attention, flashing her sweet smile as he stopped to look at her. “You look like you need some answers. Ask him.” She pointed at Youngjae. He didn’t know whether to thank her for attracting a customer or not since he was dying to go home.

The man slowly turned his head to look at Youngjae, his eyes lingering for a few seconds before moving towards the sign hanging in front of his table that said “TAROT READINGS” in black marker. He let out a “Huh,” tilting his head. Then, a “fuck it,” followed as he took one last drag from his cigarette and flicked it away before sitting down on the stool opposite of Youngjae.

He kept his gaze on the ground and played with his rings as he explained to the customer how the reading process worked and asked him to choose what kind of reading he wanted -success, relationship or a general one were the options. The man hummed to himself, his eyes on the cards as he brushed his fingers against the Lovers card, then looked up to meet his gaze.

“Okay,” he said, waving his hand at the cards. “Read all about my love life.” Youngjae sensed a hint of pain behind his mocking tone.

He flipped the cards down and stacked them on top of each other, then put the deck down on the table, asking the man to focus on what he wanted to know and shuffle the cards. As he got to shuffling, Youngjae found his own pack of cigarettes and took out one.

“Do you mind if I-?” he asked the customer, even though the smell of  _ his _ cigarette was what made him crave.

“Go ahead.”

He put the cigarette in his mouth and attempted to light it but his lighter wouldn’t work. Frustrated, he tried again and again, until the other man said “Let me,” reminding his presence as he approached with his own lighter. He used his other hand to shield the fire from the wind, and Youngjae reflexively flinched when his both hands appeared so close to his face. He leaned in again, forcing himself to stay still this time. The lighter was lit. He inhaled. Immediately pulled back. Exhaled the smoke.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his gaze back to his shoes.

The man nodded and shuffled the cards a few more times. “Is that enough?”

“Sure. Put them down.”

Youngjae drew five cards and put them face down in a cross shape. He took another drag from his cigarette, and looked up to face his customer who was glancing at the guitar case beside his chair.

“Do you play?” he asked, nodding at the case.

“A little,” he felt his cheeks getting warm. “Mostly, I just sing. More of a piano guy.” He shrugged. “But it gets boring sometimes, and people tip well.”

Before dropping out of his beloved university that he got into despite the protests of his parents and a dozen fights they’ve had, Youngjae’s biggest dream was to become a singer. Even as a little kid he had always been interested in music, he often thought he should thank his parents for making him take piano lessons when he was little. While they did this in hopes of simply keeping him out of trouble while also developing a hobby, he fell in love with it. That was why he wanted to major in music in the first place, and they didn’t understand him, they never did. After all, he was supposed to study business and take his destined place in the family company- just like his brother did.

He thought all of that was bullshit.

So he declined his planned life to live his own, ended up with rejections and disappointments and just a big fucking mess. Now, he worked two day jobs and a street gig at night to survive.

Sometimes he could hear his father clicking his tongue and shaking his head, the infamous words  _ I told you so _ on his lips.

The man just hummed at his answer. Youngjae stubbed out his cigarette, drew in a deep breath and returned to the cards. First, he pointed to the card on the far left. "This is you." Then the far right. "This is your partner. And these are," he gestured to the middle cards from top to bottom, "The past, the present and the future of your relationship."

He scoffed at this. "So you'll predict my future? From cards?"

Youngjae shrugged. It wasn't the first time someone who didn't believe in the cards came for a reading. He didn’t care much anyway, it was once a hobby, and now a job. "It's just a guess.  _ You _ decide how real it is."

"Alright. Go on."

He revealed the first card: The Devil.

The man scoffed again. “ _ I’m  _ the devil?”

“It’s not- It doesn’t mean you’re evil or anything.”

“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows, curious now.

“Look- Let me explain, okay?”

“Right. Sorry.”

“In a relationship reading,” Youngjae was full on in the business mode now as he continued, connecting the card and the customer while checking his notes now and then to make sure not to say anything wrong. “The Devil usually means there's a power imbalance and one or both sides feeling trapped. This imbalance may lead to,  _ or  _ may be the cause of, jealousy, cheating or even abuse. Now,” he raised his head to look into the customer’s slightly offended but curious eyes, “I obviously don’t know what’s going on between you and your partner, and I can’t ask you to tell me more, so I’m just simply telling you what the cards mean in several contexts. But generally, it all comes together once we see all cards.”

He sighed and flipped the card on the far right over.

Three of Swords, reversed.

Youngjae raised his eyebrows, tilted his head and looked up to the man.

“Did you cheat on them?”

“Wha- How- You just said that you  _ can’t _ ask about it.”

“Sorry. Just trying to do my job,” he replied quietly, averting his gaze and playing with his rings. “I guess the cards are extra honest today.”

Silence fell on them, only the sound of birds chirping in the background. He raised his head a little and met Miriam’s gaze across the street. She shook her head worriedly, apparently listened in on the conversation the best she could from the distance.

“I cheated, yes,” the man broke the silence, his voice quiet but clear. “And I regret it.” He nodded at the cards. “Now tell me more.”

Youngjae was impressed by his enthusiasm.

“They’re, uh, pretty hurt over it. I’m guessing you two broke up?”

The man hung his head, slowly nodding.

“It’s reversed, so they’re close to either forgiving you or moving on. We still need to see the rest, but,” he met his eyes. “There’s hope.”

The customer’s eyes shined at the word, his lips slightly parted as he patiently waited for him to read the next card, and Youngjae had to suppress a smile.

He told him a couple more things about the card, how his ex-partner was still pissed and in the process of overcoming it all. Then he revealed the past and the present cards at the same time to connect everything more easily.

The Past: The Lovers.

The Present: Eight of Cups, reversed.

He sighed.

“You were so good together before, right? Maybe even thought you two were soulmates, if you believe that stuff.” Despite the fatigue catching up to him, urging him to wrap up and go home, he spoke softly and without a rush. “Did it change before or after the, um, cheating incident?”

“I think we’ve always had our problems,” he answered, his voice just as soft, his gaze down on the cards.

“Did your partner make you feel…” he touched the Devil card, “trapped? Perhaps, blaming things on you while you were both at fault?”

“Yeah! He always-” He stopped himself mid sentence, realizing the pronoun he let slip but not knowing how to save the situation either. Youngjae knew the feeling too well, having met similar situations before where he was the one revealing something about himself in a place he maybe shouldn’t have.

“It’s fine,” he assured him quickly, then tapped the little rainbow pin he had on his bag right beside his stool. The man’s expression didn’t change much, but at least he exhaled the breath he was holding. “Go on,” Youngjae encouraged, “what did  _ they _ do?”

“You know what,” he said after a few seconds of silence. “I shouldn’t use you like a therapist.” He chuckled a little, only half joking with his statement. “I better go. Thank you for the, uh, everything.”

He stood up, took cash out of his wallet and dropped it on the table.

“Oh, by the way-”

He held out a business card, and Youngjae took it.

_ Lim Jaebeom _

_ Singer/Songwriter/Producer _

_ Atlantic Records _

Behind the card was a phone number and the address of the record label headquarters.

“Come sing in the studio sometime, if you want,” he said, lips curling in a small smile. “We have a very nice grand piano.”

Youngjae couldn’t help but smile. “I- Sure. I’ll drop by."

The man -Jaebeom was his name, apparently- smiled back. “I’ll see you around, then.”

“Wait! What about the last card?”

He looked at the card, then at Youngjae again. He shook his head. “I think I’d rather not know the future. Even if it’s just a guess.

With that, he threw his jacket on his shoulder and walked away.

He began to inspect the business card further, reading every word over and over again. Just as he started debating if he hallucinated things or this actually happened, a label guy gave him his card, his phone lit up- a text from Mark. Trust him to be awake at this hour, Youngjae thought.

_ wanna come over tonight? we couldn't play much the last time. _

_ sure. six pack & chicken fingers? _

_ you know it. _

He put the phone down, then picked it up when it lit up again.

_ please don’t bring gyeom. _

He laughed to himself, then started to pack up his things- finally, time to go home. His eyes got caught on the still face down card. The future.

Curiosity took over him, and he flipped the card over.

The final card was Death, but reversed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new characters, new interactions...  
> only bambam's pov is left but he's gonna appear in ch5 bc,,, plotline  
> i tried to make the tarot part as accurate as possible but still im not an expert so,, sorry  
> let me know what you think so far!! and thanks for reading!!<3
> 
> also if you wanna hmu on [twt](https://twitter.com/koalpire) or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/koalpire) you can<33


	4. On the Rocks

Jinyoung wasn’t really having the best day.

First thing in the morning, he had a fight with his brother, which didn’t happen for nearly a decade.

He was woken up by a pillow thrown into his face and Yugyeom’s cold voice telling him breakfast was ready. They both had work so they had to wake up early, Yugyeom slightly earlier than Jinyoung because he knew his brother stayed up late the previous night and wanted to give him a little more sleeping time by preparing breakfast by himself. Jinyoung thought it was a very nice gesture at first, but Yugyeom’s sudden change in mood suggested it could have… ulterior motives.

“So what’s this New York business?” Yugyeom broke the silence five minutes into the eating omelet and drinking coffee ritual, apparently not participating as much judging by the mashed pieces on his plate and his still full cup.

Jinyoung frowned, puzzled. “How do you know about that?”

Yugyeom shrugged in an attempt to look nonchalant, but Jinyoung knew him better than that. “Someone called you about it like an hour ago. I didn’t want to wake you up, so I figured I’d just take a message.” He stopped stabbing his omelet and dropped the fork on the table. “They said to remind you that the offer is still up, whatever that is, but only for a little while.”

Jinyoung only hummed in response, Yugyeom didn’t look satisfied with that.

“Is this about the audition you went to before you broke up with your boyfriend?”

It was clear Yugyeom was trying to provoke a reaction from him. Despite involuntarily flinching at the mention, Jinyoung decided not to indulge him. He calmly took a sip of his coffee.

“No. But they referred me to another project there.”

“So you’re still going to New York?” Yugyeom’s voice was almost as low as a whisper now. His eyes, shiny. “But you said the shoot would take months. Is this going to be like that too?”

“Probably,” Jinyoung sighed. “I don’t know. I’m thinking about it.”

“Are you leaving me, then?” This time, his voice raised a little, a frown on his face. “Again?”

“You know I’ll have to get my own place eventually anyway.”

“But you don’t have to! Why live all alone when we can be like old times again? Old times, except we don’t need our parents anymore, so, even better!”

“It’s not that simple.”

“What do you mean?”

“Life, Gyeom.” Another sigh. “It doesn’t always work the way you want it to.”

“It doesn’t make any sense!”

“ _ You’re _ not making sense!”

Suddenly, Yugyeom jumped in his seat, and that’s when Jinyoung realized he had banged his fist on the table.

The fight was childish, throwing meaningless sentences back and forth with raised voices, until Jinyoung took it a step further, and now Yugyeom’s eyes were filled with tears now, his parted lips trembling, his body tense.

It was as if they were kids again, only this time Jinyoung was the one who made his brother cry in place of his father.

“Yugyeom, listen,” he lowered his voice, at least to a normal level, regretting making his brother uncomfortable like this. “I need to go to work, and I’m already not in a great mood, so let’s just talk after I get back, okay?”

As though waking up from a trance, Yugyeom’s eyes refocused on Jinyoung as he blinked the tears away and nodded.

With the shitty feeling -a combination of guilt, regret, and many more- caused by distressing his brother trailing close behind him, Jinyoung left the apartment.

At work, everything was going so smoothly that he even forgot about their fight. He recorded some parts, reviewed the new tracks and scribbled some notes for the lyrics suitable for them, and it was already lunch time. After that, he could work on the songs at home. 

Little did he know, the day was far from being over.

On his way to lunch, he ran into someone he really didn’t want to.

Despite basically working at the same company, he had managed to avoid his ex-boyfriend for a couple weeks by only going to the building when he absolutely needed to, keeping to himself until he quickly finished his business when he did, and always eating lunch in a different place. He didn’t have to block his number since thankfully Jaebeom gave up after he left his desperate texts on read multiple times, but the chance of encountering him still made Jinyoung uneasy, because not talking to him for this long could lead to his ex dumping his giant pile of things to say onto him face to face, which was worse.

So when he saw him across the hallway, his first instinct was to change direction.

“Jinyoung, wait!”

As he was about to turn back, Jaebeom,  _ of course _ , recognized him instantly and shouted his name.

“What do you want?” he deadpanned as Jaebeom caught up to him in a few rushed steps, cursing himself for not running away as he should and actually stopping to listen to him.

“You don’t have to run away from me, you know. We’re still colleagues. Hell, I’m making half of your tracks-”

“I told you I don’t want to see you,” he cut him off. Jaebeom shut up immediately. “If you don’t have any reasonable excuse, I’m going out for lunch.”

This made Jaebeom sigh, and Jinyoung noticed how tired he looked for the first time.

“You left this,” he took a white sweater out of the bag hanging from his wrist. “It was in the laundry when you came to the apartment, so… Probably forgot about it.”

He in fact didn’t even realize he had left the sweater.

“So what,” he countered, “you were just carrying it around in case you run into me?” Changing the subject. Buying time. And maybe getting under his skin in the meantime- giving him a taste of his own poison.

“I knew you had a schedule today,” Jaebeom hung his head, embarrassed. “Wasn’t sure I’d find where you’re hiding but took my chance anyway.”

“You’re not expecting praise, I hope.”

Jaebeom shrugged, his gaze was at the sweater as he absently played with the loose threads. “I just thought you would want it back.”

Jinyoung raised his eyebrows. “It’s your sweater.”

Jaebeom’s lips curled in a bittersweet smile. “Not since the lake house.”

Once again, with or without intention, Jaebeom had tugged at his heartstrings.

“You remember our trip there, right?” he continued, like Jinyoung could ever forget. It was when he stole this sweater from Jaebeom, complaining it was too cold, and he kept wearing it as his ever since. It was their first real vacation together, the first time they were alone together with no work to bother them, and “The first time you said-”   
  
“I remember.”

There was a soft glint in Jaebeom’s tired eyes. He looked like he could tear up with just a little push. For a brief moment, Jinyoung considered if he should push him.

He sighed and accepted the sweater.

He didn’t forget to add, “I still don’t want to see you.” After all, this was his last excuse to confront Jinyoung and it was gone.

Jaebeom nodded slowly but Jinyoung was the one to move first, quickly walking past him, leaving him in the hallway.

This time, he didn’t follow.

On top of this aggravating experience he would much rather not have, during lunch he realized he forgot to take the files from the studio’s computer and without those he wouldn’t be able to work at home. So, he needed to go back to the company. Again.

To his luck, the studio was occupied. He was about to reach for the doorknob when a staff stopped him, so he asked her if she knew who was inside, in hopes of knowing the person enough to step in and ask for a few seconds of their time to take his files and be on his way. And it turned out it  _ was  _ someone he knew.

“Oh, that new kid is in,” she said. “What was his name… Jackson?”

The blood drained from Jinyoung's face when he heard the name.

He barged in, ignoring the staff’s protests, and told the sound engineer sitting in front of the mixers to scram.

And there he was in the booth, holding onto the headphones on his ears, looking confused but curious-  _ Jackson Wang. _

He removed the headphones slowly, eyes following Jinyoung as he entered the booth, closing the door behind him, approaching one step at a time. He gave Jackson a  _ look, _ eyes travelling up and down his body aiming to read his soul. Jackson was obviously confused- this was the first time they were face to face after all and Jinyoung wasn’t sure the kid even knew who he was.

He intended to change that.

"So you're the pretty face he decided to fuck over this time."

"I'm sorry what-"

"Lim Jaebeom," he snapped. " _ God _ , you know his name, right?"

Jackson blinked. "Of course I know him, he's producing my album."

"Please," Jinyoung scoffed. "You know each other better than that. More  _ intimately _ ."

It took Jackson a second before realisation dawned on him, first frowning then his eyes opening in shock. "Oh shit- Are you guys-?" Jinyoung raised his eyebrows as if to say  _ what do you think? _ "I-I didn't know. I'm sorry."

He in fact looked like he was sorry, fiddling with his fingers like a child getting scolded. Good _ , _ Jinyoung thought, he  _ should  _ feel sorry _. _ "Well, we’re not, anymore," he said, then he laughed. "I'm sure you can guess why."

This comment seemed to have made Jackson even more uncomfortable than before, his cheeks pink, his gaze at his shoes. He mumbled an apology again, followed by a lighthearted joke as an unsuccessful attempt to clear some of the tension, but it didn't matter what Jackson said, because everytime he opened his mouth all Jinyoung could think about was the voices he heard through their bedroom door that night; specifically him moaning his boyfriend's name. Well, ex-boyfriend. It was going to take a little while for Jinyoung to get used to that.

At that moment, he couldn't bear to meet Jackson's pitying as it was apologetic gaze and closed his eyes. It wasn't his fault, it was Jaebeom who decided to disrespect their relationship, and it wasn't only with Jackson so there was no point in blaming him. Besides, he seemed really sincere in his apology, his soft brown eyes looking at Jinyoung with overwhelming sympathy. This made him angry again. How dare he pity him? And how dare Jaebeom disrespect both of them?

"Do you wanna grab something to drink?"

Jinyoung's head raised up alarmingly fast, so Jackson quickly added, "I-I mean, I was about to head out, and you look like you need to talk to someone, so..."  _ Even if it's the man your ex-boyfriend cheated on you with. _ Seeing the terror in Jackson's eyes was what made Jinyoung realize his shaking arms and quickened breaths. He slowly unclenched his fists, tried to take deep breaths and ignore the boiling blood in his veins. He exhaled, tried to focus on Jackson's eyes, then nodded.

"Okay."

He had made worse decisions, after all.

  
  


* * *

When he offered to talk over a drink, Jackson thought they would just chill in the cafe on the corner of the street the studio was in. Apparently, since he passed the cafe and hurriedly walked down a block with Jackson on his tail to enter the closest bar, Jinyoung had something stronger than coffee in mind. They settled in the barstools for a quick access of alcohol, though Jackson wasn't sure if he could -or would want to- deal with a drunk Jinyoung, considering they met half an hour ago and he already had a glimpse of Jinyoung's rage mode. He just hoped things wouldn't get that far.

This was probably Jackson’s one of the most “just wing it and see what comes out” type of evening ever.

He had a glass of beer in front of him while Jinyoung ordered a gin tonic. Jackson admired his taste even though he knew Jinyoung’s decision was just based on getting drunk quicker, while Jackson wanted to keep his composure. There was a silence for a minute or so after they got their drinks, just Jinyoung sipping on his drink as Jackson stole glances at him now and then. Then he sighed and slightly turned towards Jackson.

"Are you two still..?" he trailed off, the question obvious.

"Occasionally, I think." Jackson's shoulders slumped a bit, his eyes on the beer glass as he drummed his fingers against it. "Been a few times after, you know, you two broke up."

After that whole incident with the broken mirror and everything, Jackson didn't see Jaebeom for a few days. It wasn't like they avoided each other, at least Jackson didn't. Jaebeom just didn't leave his apartment, that was all. Then finally he did because he had to go to the company building to do his job, and after the two finished their work in the studio they ended up spending the night together too. This continued for a couple more times, but their constant teasing and subtle touches during work stopped. Well, Jackson didn't stop flirting, just Jaebeom stopped responding.

Apart from his unresponsiveness, the breakup made Jaebeom a whole mess and Jackson thought he was getting even worse everyday. He tried to force him to eat properly and drink less alcohol but Jaebeom got mad at that for some reason, but it just resulted in rough sex. It was like he didn't want to feel anything else anymore.

"So you lied." Jinyoung spoke after another minute of silence, interrupting Jackson's train of thought.

"Hm?"

"You said you didn't know."

"Didn't know it was you," he smirked, then added to his defense, "And I didn't know at all the first time."

The thing was, even if Jackson knew Jaebeom was in a relationship in the first place, he wouldn't care. It didn't interfere with his goal, and morals were usually not his strong suit. However, knowing he was dating another male artist in the company would be different. Then, it would be an information that should be treated differently, perhaps even used as a material for a future blackmail. It didn’t matter now, though, and maybe it was for the best.

Besides, he felt kind of bad for Jinyoung.

"What would even change if you knew it was me?” Jinyoung asked like he read his mind but only saw fragments. “Did you even know me before I barged into the studio?"

Jackson scoffed at that. "Of course I know you. I know everyone in the company." Then he frowned and added before taking a large sip from his untouched drink, "It's just not everyone knows me… yet."

“Don’t count on that too much, it will bring you more bad than good.”

Jackson would disagree.

Still, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, “If you don’t mind me asking,” he said carefully, knowing full well he  _ would  _ mind, but hoped that he was tipsy enough to tell anyway. “How did you two start dating?”

“Ah, that,” Jinyoung swirled the now empty glass in his hand, causing the leftover ice cubes to clank together. “For that, I need another drink. A stronger one.”

So he waved the bartender over and ordered some shots. No,  _ a lot of _ shots.

While the drinks were being prepared, he mentioned that they met when he transferred from a smaller label, and he had no idea that Jaebeom was the son of the CEO for at least a couple months. They coincidentally met at the cafe at the company building during lunch time, and “Contrary to popular belief,” he said, “We didn’t fall in love at the first sight. Though it happened shortly after.”

He sighed, threw back the first shot, turned the glass over on the bar, and began talking for real.

"A little backstory for Jaebeom, since I’m sure you don’t know  _ that  _ much about him yet,” he said, chuckling to himself, the alcohol gradually catching up. “He'd wanted to be a musician since he was a teenager- been in and out of foster homes by then, getting kicked out before long. Until the CEO of fricking Atlantic decides to adopt a son. What luck, huh?"

It was indeed very lucky. The kind of luck Jackson would kill to have.

"So he decides that this time he cannot fuck it up. He has to be a good son to this guy, it's his only ticket to his dream. And what do you think happens after years of repression and emotional pressure, just when he thinks he’s about to make it?" He stopped to take the second shot, and for some dramatic effect. "He falls for a man at his father's company."

“What did Mr. Lim do when he found out?”

Jinyoung’s lips curled into a sad smile. “He said it doesn’t fit his image.”

"The thing about Jaebeom is-” he continued. “He writes raw. Right from the heart. And he doesn’t care if it’s ugly, that’s what makes it art, you know? But Mr. Lim wants polished. He wants marketable. Attractive. He doesn’t want you screaming your heart out if teenage girls can’t relate to it, which was Jaebeom’s main audience according to his father. So he made an artificial image for his son to fit in. To work in. To live in. And in that life, there was no room for me.”

“But Jaebeom didn’t want to let you go?” Jinyoung nodded. “Damn, it’s almost like a romance novel.”

Jinyoung laughed at that, but his face fell again soon.

"He was very hesitant for so long. Didn't want to fuck up and didn't want to lead me on. Until he couldn't- Until we both couldn't resist anymore.

“So we found a common ground. He stayed in producing and I stayed in performing, and it kind of worked. It was like I was singing for both of us. And when he risked everything he worked for, just like that, for me...” He sighed deeply, trying to blink away the tears forming in his eyes. “I really believed him, you know. That it was just us against the world.”

He threw back another shot. Three. He turned to Jackson.

“I learned that it wasn’t just you, so, don’t feel too bad about our relationship.”

Jackson just nodded. He pointed at the plastic bag on Jinyoung’s lap. “What’s in the bag?”

“Oh!” Jinyoung exclaimed after he followed Jackson’s finger with his eyes to find out what he was talking about, clearly had forgotten the bag even existed. Then he laughed. “That’s another funny story. It’s a sweater. Jaebeom gave it back to me on my way to lunch.”

He quickly, and a little drunkenly, explained how it was Jaebeom’s sweater first but then Jinyoung basically seized it and made it his. Despite his alcohol infused honesty, he omitted the details. “You know what’s fucked up? It smells like him,” he said after the brief background information. “He’s never worn it since the- since I stole it from him. So either he wore it because at first he thought I wouldn’t come back or want it back anyways, or he did it deliberately to give it to me like this, with his scent on it. So that I’ll remember him.”

“To be honest,” Jackson said, “He doesn’t seem that sharp.”

Jinyoung let out another laugh, a real one this time. Jackson wasn’t sure if it was the drinks but he made Jinyoung laugh a lot that day. Considering the circumstances, it was satisfying to see how quick he got Jinyoung to warm to him.

This time, though, he didn’t really care about that.

"I can see what he saw in you," Jinyoung broke the half a minute long silence again. "Pretty eyes, handsome face- smart, too." He took another shot (Four.), grimacing at the sharp taste of vodka as he did after every shot. "He likes breaking pretty things."

"Is that why he liked you too?"

To his surprise, Jinyoung chuckled bittersweetly at his remark. "Maybe.” Then, he frowned. “I might have been the one breaking things, though."

Figuring Jaebeom out was easy: once you get close to him he was an open book and he didn't seem to be ashamed of it. Jinyoung, on the other hand… If it weren't for the alcohol, Jackson felt like he couldn't even get a hint of the real Jinyoung.

“Anyways- I should get more drunk, and you,” he pointed to Jackson with the hand that was holding the fifth shot glass, “should go home.”

Jackson agreed and took out his wallet to pay his share of the tab, but Jinyoung gestured to him to stop with a wave of his hand, telling him he would handle it.

"Consider it an apology for my... outburst earlier," he added.

“You sure you’ll be okay?”

“No,” he grinned. “But I always find my way home.”

Leaving a considerably drunk Jinyoung behind, Jackson went home.

He entered the apartment and found the curtains closed and the lights off, so he figured Mark must have gone to bed, as the man didn’t seem to have anything resembling a sleeping schedule. But when he stepped farther into the living room he noticed the TV screen was on, a paused game on display, then his eyes found the sleeping man on the couch. He must have dozed off since he wouldn’t normally sleep in the living room, besides, he didn’t have a blanket on and the room was rather cold.

Jackson, sighing to himself, decided to be a good person and cover his roommate up with a blanket. Before he could go retrieve one, though, he was startled by Mark’s voice.

At first, his words didn’t make much sense, not more than just whining and mumbling. Then, as he came closer, he picked out some words. They weren’t really cheerful things.

“Mom,” Mark cried out. “Mom, no- No!” Then his screams turned back into incoherent whispers, drowned out in his sobs.

Jackson, not really knowing what to do, slowly approached him and gently shook his shoulders. “Mark, wake up.”

He showed no reaction. His sobs continued.

“Mark, you need to wake up.” He tried shaking him harder. “Mark!”

He finally opened his eyes, jumping slightly, gasping for breath as he held onto Jackson’s arms. He looked terrified for a second before he recognized Jackson, then his eyes visibly softened, as if he now knew he was in the real world.

“You’re okay,” Jackson told him softly. “It was just a nightmare. It’s alright now.”

It took a few more moments for Mark’s breathing to return to normal. He let go of Jackson’s arms and sat up on the couch, wiping his face on his sleeves. Jackson quickly went to the kitchen area to bring him a glass of water, which he accepted with a tiny, thankful nod. He sat down on the other side of the couch, eyeing Mark worriedly as he took small sips from the glass he held with shaking hands. He didn’t know how to comfort him. They weren’t close. He didn’t even like Mark that much.

“Do you want to… talk about it?”

“No.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands as he kept drawing shaky breaths in and out. “No I- I thought you were coming home late tonight.”

“I  _ am  _ late _. _ It’s 9 pm already.”

“ _ Oh. _ ”

Jackson hated to see him like this. 

He looked away from Mark, and his eyes got caught on the paused game on TV.

“Hey- do you have any two player games?”

Mark scratched his head, thinking. “Only Mario Kart, I guess.”

“Oh, good.” Jackson was quick to take one of the controllers. “I’ll destroy you.”

Mark let out a faint chuckle as he took the controller in Jackson’s hand and replaced it with the correct one for the correct console, which made Jackson smile, then went for the other one. Seeing him laugh was a rare sight, and it felt good to witness.

“Give Peach to me though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii,,,   
> so sorry for the super late update, the scene where jinyoung and jackson meet was the first scene that came to my mind while i was thinking about even starting this fic and it was the first scene i wrote but surprisingly it took a lot of time bc the rest of the chapter was pretty hard to write lol  
> next chapter will be...a lot more complicated. but i'll try  
> anyways, let me know what you think! and thanks for reading! <3


	5. Regular/Irregular

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're back!! hopefully didn't make you wait too long <3  
> two things:  
> 1) as you probably noticed already, the titles are taken from songs (either related to the name or the lyrics or both) but this chapter's name is actually an nct album, but i picked it with mostly the title track in mind, so i wanted to mention it  
> 2) the second part has some sexual content at the beginning, but it's kinda different than what you'd imagine lol
> 
> Also a tiny //TW for drug use//   
> enjoy!

A significant number of people thought Bambam never worked for his name, that he was born rich and it was the only reason he was this popular in various fields. While it was true that his parents were wealthy, it wasn’t even close to his brand’s net worth. The brand he founded and worked his ass of to shape into something his parents wouldn’t even dream of having, not because they lacked the ability but because they lacked the vision. That was the main difference between him and them.

Almost every article about him mentioned his parents by name.

It wasn’t like he didn’t love his parents, he did, but he hated the idea of their names being attached to the others’ perception of him; he wanted to stand out as himself. They weren’t even that special, just two of the many considerably rich people benefitting from their lucky place in Corporate America, while Bambam was so much more already at his young age. And he made it all happen by himself, not with their help, not even with their connections. So he tried everything to make his fame go beyond his parents so his name could be separated from them. He pursued his passions to the max- he got a degree in fashion design, formed his own dance crew, founded his own brand from scratch.

The worst thing about it was they always said they supported him, always showered him with praise, but he never really felt that, because they were never there to show it.

Ever since he was a kid, his parents were always busy with their jobs, always at work or at business meetings in other states, leaving him alone in the big empty house with the few servants. They often brought gifts as compensation, usually things he wanted or they thought he would like -he didn’t, most of the time.

An hour before the show his father texted him, saying something came up and he would have to miss the show, that he was sorry. A few minutes later his mother called and said something similar, but unlike his father she made an effort to detail her excuse a little, telling him how this meeting was so urgent and so important that it would affect even  _ his  _ children which he didn’t plan to have as he told his mom.

He was almost used to it.

They missed his debut performance with Mark. They missed the opening of his first pop-up store. They missed the opening of his first real store. They missed his re-debut with Yugyeom.

Bambam still kept inviting them.

The backstage was surprisingly crowded but Bambam figured that none of them were groupies because there were some familiar faces, although he had told the staff to let a few pretty boys in. Instead, there was Yugyeom’s older brother, Bambam’s ex dancing partner, and two more people he figured out to be Yugyeom’s friends also.

Yugyeom invited them to the show and backstage, apparently. The guy just had so many friends.

Jinyoung, being the big brother he always was, asked if they could get an extra ticket to the front row for the new addition to the little friend group they had. Bambam shrugged and said “Sure.” It wasn’t like his parents were going to show up anyway. Then, in a blink of an eye, it was time to take the stage.

On stage, everything was perfect.

The cheering started even before the intro started playing and it doubled when Yugyeom rose up to the stage on the platform, tripled when it was Bambam’s turn. The moment the spotlights were on him, he could feel the adrenaline traveling through his entire body, a pleasant buzz already taking over him. And as the show went on, everytime the lights shifted enough for him to see the sea of faces full of admiration in front of him, he delighted in their expressions.

He was born to be on stage, he had come to realize. He was born to be watched, to be admired.

For an hour and a half, people chanted his name, watching him in awe, praying to him. For a moment that was short even for human life but was stretched into infinity by relative perception, he was the sole focus of everyone in the room.

He was a god.

And he accepted their worship and in turn he blessed them with his divine presence, his impeccable performance, and his blinding smile.

Of course, the show was a success. The venue was sold out hours ago, they delivered a flawless performance, no one got injured, and considering all the loud cheering and applause the audience seemed to love everything they could give. This was the first show of their new tour, starting in their hometown just like the previous one before that. Aside from this tour being much bigger than the previous ones, almost across the whole continent, everything seemed to be the same. Even the afterparty had nothing much different than the last one, only more crowded.

The quantity increased. The quality stayed the same.

Ever since childhood, Bambam was used to the attention to the point of decaying in its absence. So the increasing praises and the worshipping that came with their recently blooming success, as they were rewarding, were also normal to him.

The usual. The regular.

Nameless people that found their way into the party only because they were pretty or rich or a friend of a friend of a friend surrounded them as Bambam leaned his back on the bar with Yugyeom at his side, each one with a drink in hand. Some girls approached them, asking for autographs, and others came close just to flirt. They politely smiled at them and sometimes Bambam flirted back, just for the thrill of it, but got bored quite soon of the shallow conversations and often moved places just to ditch people. For some reason, Yugyeom followed him almost every time.

These days, he couldn’t help but notice how his fame as a dancer, separated from his brand and individual reputation, increased after Yugyeom replaced Mark. It was as if Yugyeom was an important variable in his life; as if he weren’t there, if it was someone else, he wouldn’t get this far.

That was an absurd thought.

Yugyeom didn’t bring success, Bambam had to remind himself.  _ He  _ was the one who made it happen, it just happened to be around the time when Yugyeom came into the picture. It was just a coincidence.

It had to be.

One of Yugyeom’s friends approached them. Yugyeom wore the same polite smile he had been using for the past few hours, then laughed at a shallow joke he made. He briefly introduced the man -Jackson was his name- to Bambam before departing to get some drinks, leaving the two alone.

Although Bambam clearly couldn’t care less, Jackson briefly mentioned with a laugh that he was Mark’s roommate and when Jinyoung came to pick him up he was offered to tag along, so he did. Bambam was only listening with a smile because Jackson was handsome.

“You’re wearing my brand,” Bambam addressed the elephant in the room.

Jackson grinned wide, his hand tugging on the jacket. The suit was one of the recent designs, it was from the last spring collection. As for Bambam, he was wearing a unique purple suit adorned with peacock feathers, his own design, one of a kind, and he even dyed his hair platinum to go with the piece better. It was sort of a sneak peak for his new collection, so he would of course sell the suit to the highest bidder later, as he did with his original runway pieces.

“I was hoping you’d notice it. I like your designs a lot.”

“I’m surprised you could afford it though.”

This caught Jackson off guard. To Bambam, it was simply a fact.

“I mean, I never heard your name, which means you’re not known among  _ my _ circles. And for a musician, it means you’re not famous enough yet, babe.” The elaboration must have made sense to Jackson because now he looked more offended than shocked. “But don’t worry. You’re pretty enough, so you’ll get there.”

“Thanks for the reassurance,” he scoffed, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Bambam just smiled.

Jackson didn’t even wait for Yugyeom to return before leaving the bar.

At some point later into the night, both Youngjae and Jinyoung got wasted, so Jackson and Mark decided to call it a night and take them home. Yugyeom looked a bit worried for his brother but didn’t want to leave the party since he was sort of one of the hosts, so he trusted the others to handle it.

It was getting late at night and Bambam was bored.

He looked at Yugyeom sitting beside him in the booth and tilted his head to the side. “Do you wanna fuck?”

Yugyeom almost immediately blushed, his eyes open wide and blinking rapidly, parted lips too shocked to make any sound. Bambam chuckled.

“Yes or no, baby. It’s simple.”

And for Bambam, it really was simple- he was bored, he wanted to get laid and would rather do it with someone he knew to avoid any unnecessary articles written about him. He didn’t think of Yugyeom as a potential romantic or a sexual partner before, but the guy clearly adored him and followed him the whole night like a lost puppy, which effectively cockblocked both of them. So if he was into it, Bambam wouldn’t say no to a little extra worshipping.

“Okay. Sure. Now?”

Yugyeom’s attempt to look nonchalant obviously failed.

“Yep,” Bambam chugged the rest of his drink and discarded the glass on the table, standing up. “Follow me to the limo. We’re going to my apartment.”

  
  


* * *

Being surrounded by beautiful people, Jaebeom thought, was a blessing many people took for granted. Whether they were people you know or not, whether they were common people or celebrities- they were just nice to look at. Nice to have around, like a breathing decoration piece. Sometimes you interacted with them and sometimes you didn’t, but you always acknowledged their presence and how good-looking they were. Being surrounded by  _ confident  _ people, however, was a whole different story, especially if they had an intend to have sex with you.

Only a few minutes after he stepped inside was already enough to make him feel like he left all his worries at the front door, along with all of his clothes.

A young boy of barely nineteen with chocolate eyes and a bright smile took his hand and gently dragged him towards a small group of people in the middle of the room. They didn’t exchange names or any other words, really, the others were busy kissing each other anyway. So the boy kissed Jaebeom too, and they communicated through touch and gasps and blown pupils and eager eyes. Then after a heated makeout session, the boy pulled back, and one of the girls in the group approached him instead, coaxing his mouth open with her own. He felt something on his tongue as she pulled back- a pill. He swallowed it without thinking. She smiled at him wickedly before attacking his lips again.

He didn’t really remember how he ended up here with all these naked strangers. All he knew was that he was intoxicated and sad, and these strangers made him feel good. So he decided not to question anything.

When the girl pulled back, two fingers, belonging to a handsome, well built man, parted his lips and made their way into his mouth, pressing on his tongue as he gladly sucked around them. He felt a cold hand around his erection and whined around the fingers but didn’t break the eye contact as he swiped his tongue between them. 

A pair of lips were on the crook of his neck. Another pair on his cock. A hand on his thigh. Another in his hair. The fingers left his mouth.

“More,” he whimpered.

Someone -the man who was leaving marks on his collarbones, he thought- got him to sit up and get on his knees, and that was when he noticed the others weren’t attending to him anymore as well. Then the same someone grabbed him by the hair and pushed a cock in his mouth. He choked, surprised by the sudden harsh move, but when he was allowed to breathe he eagerly dived back in and began sucking as he was silently commanded to. His hands were used for different things by different people and he got scolded by one of them for not paying enough attention, so he redirected his focus -and his mouth- to that man’s cock and got praised instead, getting called “pretty” and “gorgeous” and “a good slut” now and then. He didn’t even hear or fully process most of the words but they went straight to his head and his cock simultaneously, making his eyes flutter shut.

He was already dizzy when everyone around him suddenly disappeared, and when he came to someone had pushed him onto his back, hovering over him to kiss and bite sensitive bits of skin. He felt fingers probing around his entrance and wasn’t sure if they were the same ones in his mouth earlier. He spread his legs wider to accommodate them. The drug, whatever it was, was kicking in, making his heart race faster, his already lust hazed vision worse. He saw a silhouette of a girl reaching over his body to kiss another girl on his other side, her one hand lazily playing with his nipple. He wanted to return the favor but suddenly felt too weak to lift his arm, so instead, he settled for stroking somewhere on her thigh. She didn’t seem to mind- even if she did, he was too far gone to realize it.

To hell with Jinyoung, he thought. No matter how wasted he was, Jaebeom’s thoughts somehow drifted to him. But Jinyoung couldn’t give him  _ this. _ He couldn’t satiate his hunger, not for long.

These days, he wasn’t sure if anyone ever could.

He groaned into the mouth of the man he was kissing as lips and hands and genitals attacked him from everywhere, giving him everything.

“ _ More _ .”

That was the last thing he remembered before he drifted into the darkness.

After that, a bucket of ice-cold water thrown into his entire naked body, awakening each and every nerve.

Then a shout- no, _a_ _lot of_ shouting, coming from at least ten mouths, ordering him and everyone else in the room lying on top of each other, forming a giant flesh pile, to get up and get dressed and “fucking move, you whores! _”_

Then red and blue flickering lights hurting his eyes along with the sun’s strong rays, adding to the throbbing headache as he was dragged into the back of a cop car. The silent ride. The cold, crowded, reeking jail cell.

Then his father’s disappointed face.

“ _ Shit.”  _

The curse came out involuntarily when Mr. Lim showed him the articles written about his “scandal” on the way home, at the back of his personal car.

_ “ _ Don’t you  _ dare _ swear at me, boy,” he lightly smacked Jaebeom’s head- a gesture he was used to since childhood, still, it made him sulk everytime. “I taught you manners, didn’t I?”

He lowered his head and gritted his teeth. “Sorry, father.”

“Look,” he sighed, and Jaebeom braced himself for the speech. “I don’t support your... lifestyle. But I don’t care as long as you’re discreet about it. I didn’t say anything when you were screwing one of my artists because he’s a valuable asset to the company, but I can’t excuse this. I can’t let you ruin  _ my  _ work and yourself like this.”

“I’ll fix it.” He tried to look into his father’s eyes. “It won’t happen again.”

“You better,” was his only response before they fell into a silence that wasn’t broken until the end of the ride.

His father handled the legal side of things, the right amount of money to the right people got them to drop the charges easily. As for the public side- they managed to turn it around and make him look like a victim. It wasn’t a complete lie, he didn’t take the drug absolutely voluntarily after all. He gave one little interview to someone over email, telling them how he was already under the influence of alcohol when he entered the place, and how he wasn’t even aware until the drug showed its effects and by then it was too late, and how he wasn’t sure what happened but certain places on his body were sore in the morning. That way, the interviewer’s, and practically every other magazine’s, questions about his sexuality and why even was he in the middle of a crowded bisexual orgy were left mostly unanswered, which didn’t matter because soon all the articles were about him being roofied instead of him being bisexual.

He wanted to vomit, and the awful hangover had very little to do with it.

As the rest of the day went by him trying to fix things and make sure his mess was sorted, he began to remember parts from last night- from the party.

At first, the only thing he could remember was the very thing he wanted to forget: Jinyoung.

Jinyoung, who was obviously there to support his brother, which Jaebeom might have forgotten about before going to the show because, to his defense, they didn’t talk about their families that much anyway, so he forgot that he was actually a bigger celebrity than him.

Jinyoung, who was the lingering thought in Jaebeom’s mind, even before he encountered him at the party, that wouldn’t go away no matter how much champagne he chugged down.

Jinyoung, dressed entirely in black with only the silver embroidery around the lapels of his jacket to make him stand out under the dim lights, standing beside a wall with a drink in hand and laughing brightly with Jackson-  _ Jackson,  _ of all people.

Jackson, contrary to Jinyoung’s subtle shine, was clearly dressed to make you pay attention- adorned in a brick-red suit with gold details on certain parts and a white t-shirt underneath to balance out and not look like he was trying too hard, topped with a simple gold chain around his neck to match. The suit seemed like a designer piece but Jaebeom didn’t recognize it, not that he would know many designer brands anyway.

The way both men dressed made Jaebeom feel a little naked in his leather jacket and jeans.

“It’s so funny, actually,” Jaebeom remembered Jinyoung saying with one of his charming smiles. At times like this, Jaebeom didn’t know if he wanted to kiss him or punch him in his perfect teeth. “That we met because I wanted to yell at him. Maybe break his pretty nose,” he tapped it lightly with his index finger, making Jackson giggle before turning to Jaebeom. He always knew how to push his buttons, but Jaebeom gave no reaction, determined not to give him the satisfaction. “Now we’re here, making each other laugh.”

“You just couldn’t resist my charms,” Jackson said with a smirk. They laughed. Jaebeom didn’t.

“Now you have a great story to tell your future children,” he countered instead. “No need to thank me.”

He remembered them being awfully close, touching each other in such a way it seemed like they were doing it solely to annoy Jaebeom.

He remembered encountering Jinyoung in the restroom later into the night, when they were both tipsy enough, and he remembered Jinyoung taunting and trying to provoke him in any way he could- with his sharp words, with his almost insulting gestures, with his  _ laugh _ .

He wondered why he was even at the party. He had been invited to the show and he went because he thought it was good to keep up appearances here and there, but why stay after that?

Then it dawned on him.

“You actually came!" 

A voice ringed in his ears, then the image of Youngjae beaming at him as he came closer, spotting him surprisingly easily in the crowd.

He was the reason.

“Of course I did," he said, mirroring his smile. "You invited me."

This was shortly after he entered the afterparty venue so his mind was mostly clear, he was only sipping on his first drink- a glass of champagne from a tray one of the waiters offered him. He studied Youngjae for a few seconds, taking in his form. Despite looking not quite as expensive as them he blended well with the others.

“You look really good.”

“Thanks,” he gave a shy smile, eyes cast downwards. “I borrowed some clothes from a friend.”

“Oh, I bet you pull it off better than them.” The compliment turned Youngjae’s smile into a grin as blood rushed to his cheeks. “Want me to get you a drink?”

He quickly shook his head. “I’m good.”

“Suit yourself.”

A few days after Youngjae read his future in the middle of the street, he called Jaebeom. Jaebeom was not really sure if he would, even though he wanted him to. The guy had something that pulled Jaebeom in but he couldn’t figure out what yet. He had been coming to the company almost every day since then, trying to show his talent and impress some people in the label because Jaebeom told him he was on test drive for now. And God, he had a beautiful voice, so Jaebeom was sure he would get signed but the bureaucracy worked slightly more complicated than that, and he had to make sure they didn’t take advantage of Youngjae.

Over the past few weeks he had gotten to know Youngjae a little bit better: He learned that he had an older brother and parents he wasn’t really in contact with, but that was all he revealed about his family. Jaebeom shared some parts of his own, telling him he was adopted and had been trying to live up to his parents’ standards for too long, just to show he was grateful in some way. “That was a dumb thing to do,” he had told the younger. “So I’m glad you’re taking another shot at your dream.”

One of the things he noticed about Youngjae was his smile. He had started smiling and laughing more as the time went on, and Jaebeom would like to think it had something to do with him, even though that would most likely be wishful thinking. When Youngjae smiled, he radiated the warmth of the sun. When he laughed, Jaebeom could smell the spring air around. Whatever the reason behind it was, he was glad to witness it.

There was a gap in his memory, then it jumped to when he saw Jackson and Jinyoung, this time Youngjae by his side. He was at least three drinks in by the time he saw Youngjae approach them.

“Oh, you already know each other?” he shouted over the music, coming closer. “I was going to introduce you.”

Jaebeom checked the other two’s reactions: Jinyoung had a frown on his face, and Jackson looked like he was trying to figure out the connection between Youngjae and him. Then a wicked thought entered his head.

If Jinyoung had Jackson, Jaebeom had Youngjae.

Jaebeom, suddenly overcome by jealousy and alcohol, put on a smirk as he put his plan into action. "Let me introduce you instead, here-" He extended his arm to put it around Youngjae's shoulders, to draw him closer, as if to show him off to his audience.

To his and everybody's surprise, Youngjae swiftly dodged his arm, practically ducking and even pulling away a few steps.

Both of them abruptly stopped, Jaebeom’s arm still hanging in the air.

Then came the awkward silence as all four men stood frozen.

“I’ll just… I’ll get us drinks." Youngjae mumbled, hurriedly escaping the scene.

Jaebeom, after a fifteen seconds of stun, followed him.

He found him at the circular bar that was in the middle of the venue, ordering shots with probably the last of his paycheck and barely breathing between chugging them down. It was the first time he saw Youngjae drinking that night. He carefully approached, noticing how Youngjae’s hands tightly grabbed the counter. He didn’t look at Jaebeom.

“So… What just happened? Did I do something wrong?”

“Yes. No. Just-” he sighed, then ordered another drink when the bartender came close. He looked at Jaebeom briefly before averting his gaze. “I just wanna be alone.”

“Youngjae, tell me what’s wrong,” he spoke softly despite the volume to make himself heard as he took a step closer. “Let me make it up to-”

“Don’t  _ touch  _ me!”

Jaebeom immediately stepped back. This time, Youngjae shouted at the bartender, “What’s taking you so long?!”

When he got his drink, he gave Jaebeom one last look but didn’t meet his eyes, instead landing his gaze somewhere on his neck. “Just… Leave me alone.” 

With that, he left.

Now it was Jaebeom’s turn to order a drink.

“So… Youngjae, huh?”

“Hm?”

He snapped out of the memory when Jackson spoke for the first time since they sat down. After the email interview he had some more things to sort out so he went to the company, then he ran into Jackson and they decided to grab some coffee together, per Jackson’s request. Now he was looking at Jaebeom and his third cigarette in the past ten minutes with a disappointed look on his face.

“Your new prodigy?” Jackson suggested.

Jaebeom wouldn’t call Youngjae “his” anything, because he wasn’t even sure if the kid wanted anything to do with him, especially after last night. But the rest of the phrase was true: he was new, and he could be considered a prodigy.

He shrugged. “The kid’s got talent.”

Jackson’s eye twitched. He tried to cover it up by blinking and looking around before landing his gaze back on Jaebeom.

“If you say so,” he forced a smile. “You have a knack for finding talent, after all.”

Even though Jaebeom’s attention was on his phone, checking out articles about him to make sure everything was under control, he could feel Jackson waiting for the right time to tell something else.

“My single teasers are still not out,” he finally spoke. “I did the photoshoot more than a week ago, they should’ve been on the billboards by now.” Jaebeom only hummed in response. “Do you know anything about that?”

“How should I know, Jackson? Ask your manager.”

He rolled his eyes. “He’s incompetent.”

Jaebeom lifted his gaze from his phone and raised his eyebrows. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with him for now. Ask the marketing team, then.”

This obviously wasn’t the reaction Jackson wanted to provoke but he didn’t persist. Instead, he took a sip from his iced americano and attacked with something else.

“Jinyoung and I are thinking about making a song together. Like, a duet? I think it could boost my reputation.”

Jaebeom’s grip on his cup tightened. “Yeah, might be a good idea.”

At this, Jackson sighed. “Are you bored of me?”

“What do you mean?” he frowned.

“In case you forgot,  _ I  _ was the center of your attention since I got signed. And when you needed consolation, you called  _ me. _ Not anyone else. Now, I’m telling you I’m gonna do a duet with your ex, who you’re still in love with, by the way, and you don’t even care?”

“So you admit to only doing it to spite me?”

He narrowed his eyes and folded his arms. “I didn’t say that.”

Jaebeom couldn’t help but scoff at his defensive behavior.

“You know, Jackson, you’re not as special as you think. And that’s okay,” he shrugged. “You don’t have to be.”

His face became unreadable after that, regardless, Jaebeom noticed the way Jackson’s hands curled into fists.

“No,” he let out a strange laugh. “No, that is far from okay.”

Thankfully they were spared the awkwardness that would follow by the ring of Jackson’s phone.

He answered the call with a “Yes, Mark?” and his voice got cheery surprisingly fast as he continued, gathering things and standing up at the same time. “Yeah, I’ll be home in an hour. Did you make dinner already? Candles? Are you serious?”

As Jackson left the cafe, still basically chirping and giggling to the phone, Jaebeom wondered if it was, by chance, the same Mark he knew. Then more snippets from last night started coming to him.

“You look like shit,” he had told him, the Mark in question.

Jaebeom grinned. “So do you.”

Jaebeom had made some tracks for Mark and his dance partner -whom he learned to be the same Bambam as this one- back in the day, when both of them were relatively new to the entertainment industry. Mark found Jaebeom through some connections his family had and during the short time they worked together they had bonded over their similar music taste and some tv shows they liked, then kept in contact through text every once in a while.

They might have also hooked up once or twice.

Mark asked him why he wasn't dressed up, as if he wasn’t the one in a plain t-shirt and a denim jacket.

“Not famous anymore, remember?”

“True,” Mark chuckled. “At least you had your high before your fall. If it can be considered a ‘high’, of course,” he teased.

Jaebeom playfully hit his arm, then grinned. “How are you holding up?”

“In general or right now?”

He shrugged. “Start from now and we’ll go from there, I guess.”

“To be honest, I’m a little disenchanted. I mean, it’s just…” He gestured around with his hand. “Seeing all of this, I can’t help but think it could have been me.”

Jaebeom knew how Mark felt. He really did.

“Did you want it?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “All I know is that I already lost my shot.”

“Maybe it just wasn’t meant for you,” Jaebeom told him, like he told himself many times before.

Mark just shrugged and said he was going to go hang around the bar.

With that, Jaebeom was left alone once more. Until he wasn’t.

A beautiful girl close to his age approached him, noticing his distress. They talked for a while and she offered to take him to a place where he could forget his worries, blatantly flirting the whole conversation. He gave her generous smiles and flirted back in return, until her offer started to make sense in his head. Even if he was seen and even if people cared, leaving a party with a random girl wasn’t that much of a scandal, not in the States anyway. And she was really pretty. And Jaebeom was drunk. And still upset.

So he took her hand and she led him to the tree of knowledge to offer him the forbidden fruit.

Then Raphael came down from the heavens to give him one last warning.

“Oh, you got a new fling already?”

Yugyeom. Jinyoung’s brother. Half of the reason for the party.

“Didn’t think you’d move on from Jinyoung that fast since you  _ always _ talked about how much you loved him but…” he shrugged, a sarcastic grin on his face. “I guess I was wrong.”

He told the girl to wait for him outside and turned to Yugyeom. “It’s none of your business. None of  _ his  _ either.”

“I know, I know,” he raised his arms defensively. “Just making an observation.”

“Well, if you don’t have anything else-”

“I saw you with Youngjae earlier,” the sudden seriousness on his face threw Jaebeom off and he swallowed, anxiously waiting for what Yugyeom would say next. “If you hurt him in any way-”

“I won’t. I would never.”

Under the dim club lights, Yugyeom’s eyes glinted dangerously. Jaebeom wasn’t familiar with him enough to know what that could mean.

“You’d better not.”

This time, Jaebeom was the one leaving the place to find the girl- fleeing, almost, eager to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you noticed that some of the characters are less developed than others, no you didn't<3 but seriously ksjndfkj it's a Nightmare to have 7 main characters im barely keeping it together but i promise i will try to figure out everything in time  
> anyways i made a pinterest board for this fic that i use for inspiration and im kinda proud of it so you can check it out [here](https://www.pinterest.ca/jiaerstwink/seven-sins-au/) if you wanna, it contains little hints about the characters as well 👀 i update it everytime i need inspiration hehe  
> as always, comments are appreciated, and thanks for reading! <3


	6. Icarus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii sorry for the late update,, i know im already a slow writer but this month was too busy with schoolwork and i Still have midterms this week so...yeah.. being a literature major during online education era is a nightmare that's all im gonna say
> 
> // TW for past sexual assault mention, it's nothing detailed and I tried to be as brief as possible but still  
> // another TW for bulimia or ed in general

Youngjae was never happy when he woke up.

Every night, he would go to bed at abnormal hours due to his work schedules, and every morning it would be a dreadful thing to have to wake up only to do some more work. Only when he got some food and coffee in his stomach would he  _ sometimes _ feel like yes, today was gonna be a good day.

This was one of those days. He was expecting to finally be an official artist of Atlantic Records, thanks to his Tarot reading skills, thanks to Miss Miriam finding him a street gig, thanks to Jaebeom stumbling onto his stand at sunrise, sad and broken, then deciding to give him his business card for some reason.

It was finally his time to fly.

The smile he was wearing as he sipped his coffee and scrolled through social media on his phone fell quickly when he received a notification.

His mother had sent him some money. He returned the transaction as it was, and texted her to stop sending him money.

_ You’re my son _ , she texted back immediately.  _ I want to help you. _

_ I don’t need your help. _

She didn’t reply after that. Youngjae still stared at the two blue check marks for a while.

His relationship with his mother was... complicated. Not exactly bad, he wouldn’t say that, but complicated.

She was the one buying a piano for him and she always loved his singing, even though she agreed with his father that music was supposed to stay as just a hobby for him. She would often come to his room while he was practicing to listen to him, standing at the door frame with  _ that  _ smile on her face which Youngjae could never figure out the exact emotion behind, and she would come close to kiss him after he finished the song.

Youngjae thought it was normal, parents would often kiss their children, even on the mouth, and there was nothing wrong with it. But every time she kissed him somewhere on his face, her lips would always linger longer than it was comfortable, and she would always grip his face or his shoulder or somewhere  _ so  _ tightly like she didn’t want him to pull away from the embrace. She didn’t do that to his brother.

Youngjae often wondered if his lack of attraction towards women had anything to do with her.

Maybe he had something like the exact opposite of the Oedipal complex.

Trying to get his mother out of his mind, he put his earphones in, filled his ears and mind with music, and left his tiny studio apartment to go to the company.

Soon after the incident he kindly asked Jaebeom to forget about what happened at the party, and Jaebeom replied that he already didn’t remember half of that night anyway. So they quickly fell back on track, meeting at the company, playing a few songs and eating lunch together.

He was supposed to be officially signed today, but there was a delay.

There was a delay, and it was because someone was sabotaging him, and it was someone he knew.

The reason it took this long in the first place was the contract was designed to make him work under practically inhumane conditions and every time Jaebeom argued that they must change this and that it took another week to prepare the updated version. Usually, with other “nobody” musicians, the label would use their usual contract which left room for exploiting them as much as possible, so, Youngjae having Jaebeom by his side to correct this made it harder for the company. The A&R guy responsible for signing him was either a little greedy or was following orders from someone higher-up in the company, which was what Jaebeom suspected as he told Youngjae that he should just hold on, that he would make sure he got the best contract possible. By the looks of the scenery Youngjae just witnessed, though, it wasn’t necessarily a “higher-up”, just someone who was apparently very good at manipulation.

“Did you do what I asked you to?” Jackson was asking the aforementioned A&R person with a low voice, his fingers hooked in the poor guy’s belt loops as his back was pressed against the wall beside the elevator. The guy nodded.

“Are you sure it’s not too obvious? I mean, it’s already been-”

“Yes, I’m sure. Don’t worry about it.” He smiled, it didn’t really reach his eyes. “Just do as I say.”

“If you say so.” The guy still looked worried, not really convinced. “I don’t wanna get in trouble with Mr. Lim’s son.”

That was when Jackson noticed they had a witness.

“Youngjae!” he pulled away from the guy at once, turning to him with a beaming grin on his face. “I wanted to talk to you, if you’d give me a moment of your time?”

Youngjae was curious about how far Jackson would go with his little scheme and why was he sabotaging him in the first place, so he said, “Sure,” then followed him into an empty meeting room.

“So, how is your signing process going?” Jackson asked once they settled in the chairs, Jackson sitting at the head of the table and Youngjae on his left. “Will you be able to release a single by the end of the month?”

“You know how it is going,” Youngjae countered, not impressed by his ignorant act. “Since you follow it so closely, even talking to the A&R responsible for it.”

Jackson smiled in a very annoying way. “He has other clients than you, you know.”

“Look, I’m not stupid. I know you’re involved in this mess, though I’m not sure what you hope to gain from it.” He stood up, staring down at Jackson with his newfound height. “But I suggest you drop it before things get even messier for both of us.”

Before waiting for an answer, he began to leave the room. He was almost at the door when he heard Jackson’s voice behind him.

“Are you fucking him?”

He froze in place, turning around to stare at Jackson in disbelief.

“What-”

“It’s just, you know,” Jackson tilted his head, looking at him up and down. “The way he looks at you. The way he looks  _ after _ you when you leave the room.” He shrugged. “It makes people talk.”

Youngjae knew Jackson said it to get to him. He knew it was just to draw a reaction, to make him mad, to make him slip. But he also knew what he said was true- he himself had caught Jaebeom’s gaze on a few occasions.

Still, he was too frustrated to mind that.

“Well, are you his boyfriend?”

“No, but-”

“Then it’s none of your business.”

Jackson’s mouth fell shut after that, his big eyes boring into Youngjae’s, then he scoffed. “You think he won’t discard you after getting in your pants?”

“Too bad he won’t get to do that, then,” he said, his voice confident, unwavering. Adrenaline? Maybe so. “I’m not you, Jackson. I don’t need to fuck my way to the top.”

His hands balled into fists, Jackson smiled.

“You’ll  _ wish  _ you were like me.” When he stepped closer, Youngjae took a step back, then another, his back hitting the door that blocked his escape route. 

“I’m a survivor,” Jackson continued, a fire in his eyes Youngjae hadn’t seen before. “I work for what I want. What do  _ you  _ do besides hanging around the CEO’s son? I’ve heard that you have a good voice, but it won’t be enough for you to make it. Even if you  _ do  _ somehow make it, let’s say, will you be able to handle it? The fame? The pressure? Everyone will either criticize you or have fantasies about you, and you won’t get to say anything about it. And do you know what will happen when you fuck up and both the public and the company turns on you?  _ He  _ won’t save you- not because he can’t but because he won’t try.”

When he finished, and the fire gradually died, he stepped back to give Youngjae the space he needed to open the door, then waved his hand towards the door as if to say “dismissed”.

Youngjae wanted nothing more than getting out of that room, so he did.

The elevator ride down to the first floor was stressful because he had two other people in the tiny space, and Youngjae couldn’t help but chew the skin around his nails nervously as he tried so hard not to touch anyone anywhere. After the torturous three minutes ended, he stepped out of the elevator, making his way to the lobby to meet with Jaebeom so they could go somewhere else and he could tell him about the atrocities Jackson committed against them both. He lifted his head to greet the receptionist since she was always so kind to him and-

That was when he saw him.

He was at the reception desk, chatting with the blonde woman,  _ flirting. _ He saw him, in the last place he thought he would, he  _ hoped  _ he wouldn’t have to. And of course, he had that awful smirk he used to see on his face every time he saw him around the campus, in the corridor of a building between classes, at the rows of the lecture hall; everywhere, every single time, even after- 

“Sorry I’m late,” Jaebeom was in front of him now, in his line of sight, but Youngjae didn’t see him, not really. “I got held up by-”

“He’s here.” Youngjae was nailed to the floor, staring at the man in shock. “W-Why is he here? He-”

“Calm down,” out of the corner of his eye he saw Jaebeom frowning at him. “Who?”

_ “Him.” _

Jaebeom turned around to trace his gaze and see why he was so shaken, but he couldn’t understand because he didn’t know- no one knew. Because no one would  _ believe  _ it _. _

He felt his chest tightening, his heartbeat louder and louder in his ears. The air he inhaled didn’t seem to reach his lungs.

“Oh god,” he managed, words fading into a sob, and he ran.

His legs carried him out of instinct, guiding him through the building until he reached the rooftop, and he found himself clutching to the railings, trying to breathe. 

“Oh god, he’s really here.” He pulled on his hair as an attempt to ground himself a little, pacing back and forth across the roof. “I dropped out because I couldn’t bear to see him and now he’s  _ here _ .”

“Youngjae,” Jaebeom called his name, and that might be it, Youngjae thought- the grounding source. He was breathless as well, apparently ran after him and climbed the stairs in a rush. Youngjae hadn’t realized he had been following him. “Are you okay? What do you need me to do?”

“I- I need to-” Run? Hide? Punch the guy in the face? Call the cops? None of those would work. He slid down, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. “I need a cigarette.”

Jaebeom sat down next to him and held an open pack with one hand and a lighter with the other. Youngjae took a single cigarette with a shaky hand and let him light it, just like he did the first time they met. As his breaths slowed down gradually, he could feel Jaebeom’s eyes on him more and more. He screwed his eyes shut and covered his face with one hand. “Quit staring,” he mumbled.

“S-sorry.”

He heard Jaebeom sigh, then a flicker of the lighter.

“We could talk about something else if you don’t want to tell me,” Jaebeom said after a few minutes of just inhaling and exhaling cigarette smoke, polluting the air along with their lungs. “Or we could just sit here and smoke. But something tells me that it will only get worse if you keep pretending like nothing happened.”

So he took a deep breath, and began talking about it for the first time.

He told Jaebeom how he met the guy at the campus, they were both music majors so they often saw each other in classes, but even if they weren’t he was too popular for Youngjae to not know him. He was handsome and charming, gaining everyone’s attention and trust wherever he went- even the professors were always talking nicely about him.

"Everyone fancied him. I did, too. But I didn't want- I didn't want him to- Not like  _ that _ ."

He told him about that night; how  _ he  _ was too drunk and Youngjae was too sober, how he was too strong and Youngjae was too weak. How he was so violent, and how it made Youngjae so shocked that someone with those kind eyes would be like this to the point he doubted himself that maybe he wasn’t as sober as he thought.

"Was it… your first time?"

Youngjae nodded, then scoffed. "The only time."

He remembered the ugly purple of the huge hickey on his neck. He remembered trying everything to make it fade faster because every time he saw it he would feel those disgusting lips on his skin and those grinning teeth sinking down his flesh, and because if someone else saw they would think he  _ enjoyed himself _ and that was the farthest from the truth.

So he didn't leave his dorm room for more than a week, living off instant ramen and junk food as he busied his hands and his mind with computer games, and covered his neck with the collar of a turtleneck so Yugyeom wouldn't see it too.

After a week and a half, the bruise faded, but his routine didn’t change for much longer.

He didn’t attend classes, didn’t leave his room unless necessary for the fear of encountering him. And when Yugyeom was finally successful in bullying him into going to a class, he saw him in a corridor, just when he was about to enter the lecture room.

The next day, he decided to drop out.

“That’s why you don’t like being touched, isn’t it?” Jaebeom’s words made him realize that he was thinking again and not speaking, as he had been for years about this. “Because of him?”

He nodded.

“You know what’s the worst part? I can’t stop thinking that-” he stopped mid-sentence because his voice started to shake. He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. “That maybe I deserved it, you know.”

He forced himself to look at Jaebeom, to see his reaction. His mouth fell open, shocked at his words. Youngjae didn’t really know how to feel about that.

“Youngjae,” he said, his voice the softest Youngjae had ever heard, and perhaps he liked the sound of his name better this way. “No one deserves that.”

He kept his gaze on Jaebeom for a moment and saw only worry and sympathy in his eyes. Youngjae wasn’t really used to this. He averted his gaze and gave the tiniest shrug. “Can you give me another cigarette?”

“Sure. Here.”

He put his cigarette pack and lighter on the small space between them, so Youngjae was able to take one for himself without having to worry about accidentally touching him. It made Youngjae’s lips curl in a small smile when he noticed. “Thanks.”

Jaebeom nodded. “Anytime.”

Youngjae couldn’t help but think about Jackson’s words.

What he didn’t tell Jaebeom was that they were sort of close with  _ him. _ That he was always trying to help Youngjae, in terms of school, in terms of financial issues when Youngjae couldn’t convince his parents that this keyboard and that guitar was absolutely necessary for class, even in terms of figuring out his sexuality.

In retrospect, it was really funny, that a guy who presented as strictly heterosexual was mainly into guys and even helped a gay man embrace his sexuality while he himself couldn’t.

He stood up, putting a careful distance between himself and Jaebeom before speaking.

“I know you only stick around because you want to have sex with me.” He dropped the cigarette butt on the floor and stepped on it, not looking at Jaebeom’s confused, frowning face before he finished his words. “At least you’re kind enough to try to convince me before you make your move.”

Jaebeom was stunned for a few seconds. He looked hurt. “I care about you, Youngjae. I know you don’t believe me but I really do.

He spoke so softly that Youngjae wanted to believe him, he really did. But he let his guard down lower than he should have already.

“I just want to help you,” he continued, and there it was again, that same sentence.

Youngjae’s response was almost automatic. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not. It breaks my heart to see you like this.”

He scoffed. When did he get so cocky? “I don’t need your pity.”

Silence fell on them. Jaebeom opened his mouth and closed it a few times. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally said.

“I don’t want-” Youngjae drew in a shaky breath. “I just want to make music. To sing. To live. You said you felt dumb for letting go of your dream. Let me not give up on mine. But if you’re saying things you cannot back up, if you’ll break your promises as soon as you’re bored of me… Then don’t even start.”

Jaebeom didn’t look like he had an answer, so Youngjae didn’t wait.

After leaving the building he went to the supermarket closest to his house and basically raided the shelves, buying almost every consumable item he laid his eyes on for longer than three seconds; booze, snacks, sweets, cigarettes- everything. All of these he paid for the remnants of his credit card limit until it declined and he had to sadly leave a few bottles of whiskey behind. When he arrived home, he also ordered fried chicken and paid with some cash he had from his Tarot readings. He hadn’t been working on the street for a week now, it was the longest break he had since he got the gig.

The streets- Of course, Youngjae thought. He suddenly had a terrible idea.

As he pulled the hood over his head and turned into the alleyway, Jackson’s words echoed in his ears- he would either be hated or be desired. Youngjae couldn’t decide which was worse, because he had trouble distinguishing the two for a while now.

“I was wondering when you were gonna give in,” the man he met there said with a grin. They knew each other because of the time they spent in the same street during the same hours.

Youngjae just shrugged and handed him the money. He wasn’t planning to use the white powder in the small plastic bag he just bought, but he wanted to have it in case all other things weren’t enough to numb him. Just in case he was too sober again.

He didn’t tell his parents that he dropped out until much later so he was able to spend the money they had been sending on renting a shitty apartment and buying much more food than necessary for him. After eating only basically garbage food for the longest time until he moved out of the dorm, eating tasty food every day felt really good. But just as he couldn’t stop himself when he was buying food, he couldn’t stop when he was eating it too. Especially when he did it to overthrow his emotions. He would eat until he felt like he would implode if he took just one more bite, then he would throw up all of it so he could repeat the cycle until he forgot why he even started eating.

This went on for a few months until he started having digestive system problems and the numbing effect didn’t work anymore. That was when he discovered vodka and found himself in the sweet embrace of alcohol.

He wouldn’t call himself an alcoholic, but objectively he might have been. He drank every time he couldn’t bear to feel anything, and it worked really well to drown himself in various kinds of booze for even longer than how it was with his earlier addictions. So he was stuck on that these days too.

But today, he didn’t feel like just one of them would cut it. So he bought everything he could.

He wasn’t even half way into consuming the things he had bought while playing a dumb game on his old, beat up laptop when his eyes slipped towards the white substance in the plastic bag. He thought of reading those articles about Jaebeom, about what he was doing after he left the party. That night wasn’t disastrous for only himself, he had thought. But maybe he lied to the papers and he actually enjoyed it all, including the drug that brought him up to cloud nine. Youngjae would rather it that way.

Just then, his phone started ringing. Jaebeom was the one calling.

Youngjae stared at the screen, at the caller ID, at the stupid selfie Jaebeom took with his phone during one of their lunches together when he suddenly picked up his phone from the table, telling Youngjae to put it as his picture on the phone book.

He sighed, tightened his grip on the vodka bottle, and rejected the call.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Jackson was already tired when he arrived home. 

He had been shooting the music video for his next single until dawn, then he had an hour long nap, then breakfast, then back to shooting- a photoshoot for a magazine this time, along with a short interview about his first released single and upcoming album. After that, he went to the studio to work on some songs. He thought he ate something in between, but he wasn’t sure, so he bought a sandwich on his way home when he felt his stomach grumble, eating everything but the bread.

His first single had gained enough attention for the label but not enough for him. So he had been working extra hard to improve the already finished upcoming album, doing music video shots over and over again until they are near perfect, making changes here and there on the already ready tracks despite Jaebeom’s advice that last second changes would most likely be for the worse. 

At home, Mark was already asleep in his own room, judging by the softly playing song coming through the closed door, a song from the playlist he put on when he was having trouble sleeping. He tried not to make much noise as he wandered around the house, doing some cleaning here and there on his way, then ended up in his bedroom.

Time to work, he thought, for at least the fourth time within the same day.

He reached through the duffel bag under his desk and took out his shooting equipment. He set up the camera quickly, setting it on the tripod, and sat on the bed. Sighing, he took his shirt off, then the rest of his clothes.

Unlike almost all of his new acquaintances Jackson wasn’t born -or adopted- into a wealthy family. He didn’t even have a father, only a mother who worked really hard to allow him and his older brother to get a good education and sleep with their stomachs full. And her efforts eventually got his brother to become a somewhat successful businessman, but it left Jackson with a debt he felt like he could never pay off.

While he was studying in a college he barely had the money for, he found an extra, temporary job by chance, when one of his high school friends mentioned he was in a band and their lead singer quit, so they were searching for a new one. Jackson decided to try his shot, was successful, and that was how he discovered that not only he could sing but also he  _ wanted to  _ sing. He also knew there was good money in the business if he could play his cards right, and he was determined to do just that. 

The band gig wasn’t paying well, and it didn’t last much long anyway. Jackson then decided to record demos by himself and try to get signed to a label but he still needed a job to sustain himself and support his mother at the same time until his career took off, and he would rather starve than work in retail again. So when he started an Onlyfans account, he promised himself that he was only doing it because he needed the money, and that he would stop once he started making money off of his music career.

The truth was, he liked the attention.

There were only praises or insults that were intended to be praises filling under his posts, uttered by people who paid to see glimpses of his naked body through a computer screen, to see what they could never touch- could never have.

Exhibitionism was an occupational hazard for everyone in the entertainment business, based on the fact that along with the product you represented you would also present yourself for the consumers to enjoy. You would adorn your body in garments pleasing to the eye and shape your public personality according to the ideals of your audience, because they were more likely to buy what you served if they liked to look at you, to listen to you. You would serve yourself, and everyone would take a piece they wanted. You would be the cherry on top of your product, the decoration.

Either you would get off on it, or you weren’t born to take the stage.

So if he was already enjoying it, why not make some extra cash at the same time?

He had already been covering his face with a fancy enough ballroom mask and didn’t really have any identifying marks on the parts of his body he showed, so he already made sure they couldn’t trace it to him when his career took off. There was no downside to it for now. Except for the time and energy it consumed.

So he could hide behind a mask, both figuratively and literally, and get praised for being someone he was not. He could be seen without being known. He could get all the attention in the world and it would be okay because it was not for  _ him,  _ but the distorted reflection of him _.  _ And unlike himself, this reflection deserved everything.

He was also glad the mask covered a good portion of his face so he didn't have to try too much to hide the bags under his eyes with makeup. It was a problem he faced almost every shoot but thankfully the makeup artists were skilled and patient enough to indulge him. A small bit of skin around his eyes could be seen through the mask though, so he applied some eyeliner and mascara, trying a new thing. He put on some lipstick and smeared it a little to the side, then put on a new harness one of his patrons bought for him. He checked himself out in front of the full-length mirror and sighed again.

Jackson wasn't always like this.

There was a time when attention used to disgust him, when all eyes on him were stripping him bare, judging him to the core, when in reality they knew nothing about him besides that he was a “nerd” and a “bastard”. And it got to him, how they pushed him around because he didn’t talk back and didn’t defend himself, but the bullying wasn’t even the worst thing about his childhood. They had so much trouble financially; they had days where him, his mother, and his brother had to snuggle up to each other under blankets for warmth because they couldn’t pay the bills. There were days where his mother almost collapsed from hunger and exhaustion between her day jobs and night jobs. The worst thing was seeing his mother like that.

He couldn’t let her down. He had to become someone. He had to give her a life she deserved, the life she wanted for him and worked so hard to give to him.

He would do anything to reach this goal.

After he snapped a set of pictures in various poses, he discarded the mask on the bed and stood up in front of the mirror. He made a few faces and tried some words, some sentences on his tongue. He often did this before he planned to confront someone new, or try a different approach towards someone he already knew.

When he heard his own voice so loudly, he noticed the silence surrounding the apartment. The playlist stopped a little after it was halfway through -Mark put it on often enough for Jackson to become familiar with the order of the songs- which meant Mark either woke up or gave up trying to fall asleep. His suspicions were confirmed by the sound of the door opening, followed by the sound of the TV before Mark quickly turned the volume down.

He had a very… strange dream about Mark recently. Well, him and two other people, to be exact.

At the start, he was naked, lying down on a bed, and he was kissing Jaebeom, and, okay, that was a familiar sight, a familiar feeling, a familiar scent. Even though it was different- more tender than he’d ever been with Jackson. But when he pulled back, there was another pair of lips kissing his skin, another pair of hands coming up to rest on his chest and neck, another sigh mixing in the air. The owner of the hot breath hitting his flushed neck raised his head, and the Mark Jackson saw looked very different than what he was used to. Details of his naked body were hazy, half memory and half imagination blurred into a dream form of him, but his face was clear: There was hunger in his eyes, and admiration, and impatience. His grip on Jackson’s shoulder tightened as he looked like he wanted to devour him. His parted lips let out another sigh before he dived in to engage in a kiss, a little harsher than Jaebeom, to Jackson’s surprise.

"You want everything, right, Jackson?” Mark whispered in his ear after he broke the kiss, and Jackson shivered. “You're never satisfied with just one thing." 

Jaebeom appeared in his line of sight again, kissing his way from his stomach up to his jaw, leaving wet spots but not staying long enough in one place to leave a mark.

"We could give you more," he murmured against his lips, his thumb caressing the back of Jackson’s neck. "We could give you everything."

Then, as he slowly pulled back, someone else appeared in the frame: Jinyoung, kneeled between his legs, towering over him with his well built frame that Jackson never got to see but only felt the muscles through the fabric with brief, accidental touches now and then. His imagination, apparently, took over to complete the picture. And what a sight it was.

Jinyoung leaned down a little to touch Jackson’s lips with his index finger, pulling down on the bottom lip as the fingers trailed down his neck, all the way to his chest. An unreadable expression on his face, he didn’t break eye contact as he lowered himself, getting their faces closer, and Jackson closed his eyes, bracing himself for the kiss. But then, he felt the breath on his face disappear, and the warmth of the bodies ceased as well.

He opened his eyes and suddenly, all three of them were looking at him, looking  _ down _ on him. His eyes flew to Jinyoung when he clicked his tongue, tilting his head.

"What a shame you still don't deserve it."

The dream ended there, and despite his uncomfortably hard erection, Jackson felt like crying.

Now, Jackson could hear the footsteps coming near until they stopped just behind the door, and there was silence for a minute or so. Jackson held his breath. He had turned on his led lights to create an atmosphere for the shoot, so Mark must have known he was awake. He could imagine Mark raising his fist to knock on the door and stopping himself at the last second before sighing, frustrated, and leaving to take his place on the couch again.

Part of him wished he actually came in.

When they first met, Mark was so closed off Jackson could almost see the walls he built around himself. So Jackson was purposely more and more open towards him, encouraging Mark to lower his barriers, to talk to him, to trust him. He wasn’t sure why he wanted Mark to feel safe with him- at first he did it out of instinct, then continued because he thought it would be to his benefit to be on good terms with his technically landlord. Nowadays, though, ever since they played Mario Kart together and Mark’s shell  _ finally  _ cracked a little, he felt like he genuinely wanted to be his friend. And so the two roommates had grown closer over time, eating meals together whenever they could and Jackson making Mark laugh as much as he could.

Jackson didn’t make friends often. Well, he knew people, he knew  _ everyone, _ and he was practically friends with everyone, but there were only a handful of people he actually considered friends. The rest were mere acquaintances to him, ranked in his head in order of importance based on a certain criteria. He studied people, especially the most  _ important _ ones, studied their strengths and weaknesses and likes and dislikes. That way he knew where to strike and how. That way he knew what to change about him into what to infiltrate their walls, to manipulate them the way he wanted.

Most of the time, he was what people wanted him to be. He was what they  _ needed _ him to be. Only then he could satisfy everyone, and they would be willing to satisfy him in return.

Only then they would love him.

He noticed he was crying only when his eyes caught his image on the camera’s screen. Black tears mixed with makeup products were falling down his cheeks.

So he put on his mask again, careful not to disturb the tears, and snapped a couple of pictures, thinking people would like seeing him like this- vulnerable and weak. 

And they did, filling the post with likes and comments about what they want to do to him and how they would make him cry like this. They praised him for looking so pretty while crying. They told him to thank whoever fucked him so good to make him cry, and that they wished they could see it, or better, be the one doing this to him. There were already hundreds of comments within a few minutes, new subscribers, new private messages offering him money to do things. He was quite popular, he knew that, but didn’t expect this much attention just for a few tears.

Somehow, it still wasn’t enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uhh a few things about the rest of the chapters are certain now  
> there's gonna be 14 chapters in total and probably an epilogue but im not sure of that for now, i changed a few tags and added some, so yes i will make hyungline endgame because it works with the story and my self interests lol  
> i want to say i'll write the next chapter faster because i already planned most of it but i have two papers due this week and a shit ton of reading assignments i need to do so it will most likely take another month for me to upload...sorry in advance  
> anyways, hope you like the story so far! as always, comments are appreciated!<3


	7. 7th Sense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, hi  
> sorry for the late update i was busy with finals and nowadays our goverment decided to basically declare war on my uni and lgbt people in general so haha...not fun times<3  
> this chapter has some homophobia and religion (christianity to be exact lol), both are tagged but still  
> also // minor character death i guess
> 
> thanks for reading and if you like the chapter leaving comments would make me happy<3 (constructive criticism is also appreciated if you wanna give some :) )

Jinyoung had a particular distaste for funerals since childhood. Specifically, since an aunt from his father’s side, one of his relatives that he actually liked, died unexpectedly and he was dragged to various places to join pointless rituals that had little to do with grieving. Shortly after the funeral his dad had left them and they moved to another city and cut off all communication with his side of the family, so he couldn’t even visit her grave again. It wasn’t a pleasant memory for a variety of reasons.

So, being at a funeral after a long while felt really uncomfortable. It also didn’t help that he wasn’t sure why he was there either.

The interior was not so different from any other Catholic church, although it was one of the fairly big ones- of course, the deceased being a rich and important person required the rituals to take place in a place like this. Still, a church was a church to Jinyoung, even though he was more used to less flamboyant churches because his step father used to force him and Yugyeom to go to the church in their neighborhood every sunday. Those church interiors were very plain and boringly white, while this one was adorned in warm colors and elaborately decorated with iconographic images and statues. It looked somewhat beautiful- Jinyoung would even take some pictures if there wasn’t a funeral going on.

He had just finished shooting a small part in a movie in New York for the past month and a half. He did accept the offer after all, despite the fights he and Yugyeom had, because he convinced his brother that he was going to come home before Yugyeom himself returned from tour. He was having second guesses about that, though, and thought that maybe he should stay, at least for a little longer. 

But when he got the mass text message that everyone in the company also got and learned that Mr. Lim died, he almost instantly bought the ticket back home, like he was just waiting for a sign to go back- and maybe he was. Just not in any way that involved death.

His first instinct was to call Jaebeom, or even text him, but he decided against it. Instead, he settled for texting Jackson to ask how Jaebeom was. “He is stable,” was his answer. “He says he’s fine but there’s not much life in his eyes.” Even seen from text alone, Jackson was clearly worried about Jaebeom, and Jinyoung couldn’t blame him considering he himself almost called his ex to check on him.

Since it was on such a short notice, he could barely find a ticket, so he arrived during the night and couldn’t attend the wake. He used the spare keys he got a few months ago when he temporarily moved in with Yugyeom, and stepped into the house that was devoid of any sign of life. There wasn’t even anything in the fridge because it was another week before Yugyeom would be back from tour. He ended up keeping his promise to his brother, he thought, as he cooked the instant ramen he thankfully found inside the mostly empty kitchen cupboard.

Jackson kept him updated about Jaebeom and the funeral in general, even sent him the location so Jinyoung could drive there more easily. So when he arrived at the very crowded church his eyes searched for Jackson and found him quickly as he was standing next to Jaebeom with a comforting hand on his back. Jinyoung didn’t approach- he didn’t feel ready. Thankfully, Jackson spotted him before someone else noticed Jinyoung just standing at the door awkwardly for too long, said something to Jaebeom who only nodded once, then came closer. Jackson embraced him in a hug, because that was how he greeted his friends, then they chatted for a moment- it was just Jinyoung buying some time and Jackson let him.

Jinyoung had come to like Jackson gradually after their disastrous first encounter. He felt like Jackson was younger despite them being the same age, perhaps because Jinyoung was technically his senior with his two albums and four years in the industry on his belt. Still, Jackson did his best not to show his inexperience, working twice as hard for everything, and Jinyoung admired his ambition. He also liked how Jackson cracked jokes in the most unexpected situations without being rude, jokes meant only for Jinyoung’s ears, and how it lit his mood up instantly- and he liked that he only did it to a handful of people. With the others, he was the professional, perfectionist Jackson who always maintained his composure, like he was now.

“Congratulations on your album, by the way,” Jinyoung said when they ran out of superficial things to say about the current situation. “It must’ve been hard to leave your schedule and come here.”

“Most of the company activity is halted for now, including promotions, so.” Jackson showed a bitter smile, then shrugged. “People pay more attention to a tragedy anyway.”

Jinyoung opted out of commenting on his boldness. “Well, you still have my word about the duet.”

“Oh, I know.” Jackson smirked this time, and it spread a warmth inside Jinyoung for some reason as he stepped a little closer. “It better chart high or you’ll have to compensate with something else.”

Jinyoung’s mouth fell open in shock. “Are you still flirting? At a  _ funeral _ ?” Jackson just shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, but Jinyoung felt like he was masking. Jackson often did that, he had come to realize, but never towards Jinyoung.

The day he saw Jackson at Mark’s apartment for the first time he was surprised. He thought they wouldn’t have to meet again so soon since Jinyoung was avoiding the company building like it was a plague hospital. Then he was confused when he saw the way he acted around Mark. His actions felt artificial and he seemed nervous- but that was under tons of layers of other emotions Jinyoung managed to see past. He tried to ask him about that at the party when they were tipsy enough but Jackson immediately sulked and said “It’s nothing.” Jinyoung, unable to resist Jackson’s pouty lips, let it go.

Now, the conversation ended beyond any more stretching, leaving Jinyoung to face the situation at hand.

“Hey,” he quietly said to Jackson, the last thing before making his move towards where his problems stood. “Thanks for taking care of him.”

“Of course,” Jackson’s worried eyes were on Jaebeom now, who was standing beside his mother, and he sighed. “What would he do without us…”

Jinyoung gave a small smile despite not being sure if he wanted to be included in this narrative, then walked towards where Jaebeom and his mother stood beside the coffin. As he came closer, Jaebeom seemed to notice him for the first time, his eyes following Jinyoung, lips parting slightly when he walked past him to stand in front of his mother.

“Mrs. Lim,” he said with what he hoped was his sympathetic voice, bowing a little. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it in time for the wake, please accept-”

“What are you even doing here?” She cried out suddenly. “Have you no shame?”

Jinyoung just blinked.

"Excuse me?"

“You crept into our family and led my son astray with your heathen lifestyle,” she continued, her accusing finger shaking vigorously at his face as if threatening to gouge out his eyes. “My husband got sick because of how sad he was! And now you come to his funeral?” 

"Jinyoung-" he heard Jaebeom start, but didn't let him finish.

"Mr. Lim was my boss," he interjected instead. "And me and Jaebeom are-"

She scoffed loudly. “Do you really think you are  _ anything _ to him?”

He was angry before he was shocked at how outrageous she was, his hands already balling into fists at his sides. He opened his mouth to shout  _ something  _ but again, another voice stopped him.

“Jinyoung,” he felt Jaebeom's hand on his arm, accompanying his far too calm voice. “It’s not worth it.”

When Jinyoung didn't budge, he said “Come on,” dragging him by the arm and not loosening his grip until they were outside.

“Let me go!” Jinyoung yelled when they went through the door, despite knowing he was stronger than him and could slip out of his grip if he tried. Jaebeom did let him go when they reached the grass patch just outside the church. He fixed his jacket angrily as Jaebeom watched him with apathetic eyes.

”I didn’t come all the way from New York for this,” he said under his breath. Jaebeom’s eyes widened. 

“You came back just for the funeral?”

“I mean... I was already done with work. I was just thinking about staying there for a little longer. Just… I don’t know," he frowned, looking anywhere but Jaebeom's face. “Staying away from here seemed like a good idea.”

He sighed and dropped down to sit on the grass, not even caring about the stain it will make on his suit. Jaebeom joined him, sitting on his right and resting his back against the outer walls of the church.

Now that he was calmer he noticed how tired Jaebeom looked. He seemed even worse than he was inside earlier, somehow.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Jaebeom let out a humorless chuckle.

“My dad just died, Jinyoung," he said. "Do you think I’m okay?”

Jinyoung couldn't really relate to it. The only important thing he felt about both of his own fathers was rivalry, and only in a sense that he was determined to outlive them.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jaebeom waved his hand as he was lighting a cigarette. “You didn’t kill him, after all.”

Contrary to your mother’s belief, Jinyoung wanted to add.

"When I heard the news," he said quietly after Jaebeom took the first drag of his cigarette. "I thought about the lake house. About what you said to me that day."

He raised an eyebrow to that. "What did I say?"

"That you were afraid of becoming your father."

Jaebeom hummed, a little surprised. “We see how well that turned out, I guess.”

Jinyoung knew what he meant, and it hurt.

He wished Jackson was there to make a few jokes and say some reassuring words to make them both feel better. Maybe he could try to do that, but no.

“Look on the bright side,” he said with a small smile. “You don’t have to live like he wanted you to anymore.”

Instead, he decided to be honest. He owed Jaebeom that much.

“You know I’ve not been doing that for a while.”

“I know. But he was holding you back.” It hurt to look at Jaebeom’s confused face Jinyoung knew all too well, with his wide eyes and slightly parted lips. “I was, too.”

Jaebeom frowned. “You didn’t do anything,” he said but Jinyoung quickly shook his head. Coming to this realization in New York was one of the reasons he wanted to come back.

“I was selfish. It was selfish of me to allow you to destroy yourself.”

It hurt to see the tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Jaebeom.”

It hurt to watch him swallow, unable to say anything.

“Cheer up, though,” he added as a lousy attempt to dispel the air, nudging Jaebeom a little. “Now that you’re the head of the company, I’m sure you’ll find your own way again.” Jinyoung was expecting a light chuckle and maybe a sarcastic remark, but Jaebeom’s eyes widened like he was just realizing the situation.

"God, the company-" his voice wavered, he covered his face with both hands and took a deep breath. When he raised his head again to look at Jinyoung, his voice was barely above a whisper. 

"Oh, Jinyoung, what am I gonna do?"

He put a sympathetic hand on Jaebeom's shoulder, but the touch seemed to be the thing that broke him as he suddenly bursted into tears. Jinyoung reflexively pulled him into his arms, and Jaebeom curled into a ball against him as his entire body shook with sobs. He cried for a while, face buried in Jinyoung's chest with him softly stroking his back, and Jinyoung found himself thinking how the man in his arms felt so small like this despite his broad shoulders and slightly taller frame, and how his body just fit into his. How comforting him came natural and how it hurt to see him suffering like this. 

He decided not to say anything about it as he waited for Jaebeom to calm down.

Crying in someone’s arms turned out to be the very thing he needed at the time because he was too busy between the preparation of the funeral and taking care of his mother for the past few days so he didn’t exactly have the time to stop and grieve, Jaebeom told so as he lit another cigarette, still sniffing now and then with his back against the wall again. Jinyoung felt that his words might have also helped push Jaebeom over the edge.

They fell into silence again and Jinyoung found himself staring at him. That was when he noticed he was absent-mindedly playing with a chain around his neck.

"You're wearing the cross," he said. Jaebeom's fingers stopped and he looked down as if he was just realizing its existence.

"Just for the funeral," he replied quietly. "Thought it was appropriate."

It was the same golden necklace he used to wear when they first met. He used to wear it all the time until the day they started dating, so Jinyoung always thought it had more meaning than Jaebeom himself realized. He remembered that, a few days after his grand declaration of love at the lake house, Jaebeom took it off and dropped it onto Jinyoung’s palm. “I love you,” he had said. “And not even God can change that.”

Jinyoung couldn’t help but wonder if that was still true. And he wondered more if it was true for him too.

“You know what’s the worst thing about us?” Jaebeom broke the silence. He sounded like he was thinking about this for a long time.

“When we’re good you make me the happiest person on earth, but when we’re bad, I don’t even know why I love you. Loved, I mean-” he quickly corrected himself. “It’s all past now.”

Something in Jinyoung hoped it wasn’t just a slip of the tongue.

After Jaebeom finished his cigarette and bid farewell to him as he walked back into the church, he didn’t follow.

  
  


* * *

The first thing Mark noticed was laughter.

Then he realized he was in the driver’s seat of a car and he recognized the song playing in the background- Runaround Sue. His father in the passenger seat was in charge of the music as always. They would usually listen to old songs when they were travelling because the car they often used, being a classic one, only had a cassette player, and his father had some tapes he bought when he was young. Both Mark and his sister grew up listening to his father’s record collection, mostly made of old hits- the classics, as he called them. This song, however, had a particular connotation to it. Mark felt himself tense.

“Are we there yet?” his sister asked from the backseat. “I wanna kick your ass on the course as soon as possible.”

Right. The course. 

They were going to a golf course, a monthly family tradition, something they did to stay connected and have fun together no matter how busy they were with other things. Mark wasn’t really a fan of golf, at least not as much as his sister, but maybe that was only because she beat him every time. Still, he liked the way it made her happy, and he liked spending time with his parents like this. He opened his mouth to make a sassy remark at his sister but the scene abruptly changed.

Then came the screams.

Then, the cold.

The car disappeared, leaving him to the merciless hands of the ocean around him.

Wet. Cold. Silent.

He saw his mother, the shocked expression frozen on her face with her eyes and mouth wide open, body ever so slowly sinking down, her hand extended like she was trying to reach Mark before her movements stilled completely. He heard his sister’s voice, calling him for help, voice muffled because of the water. But he couldn’t move. He was suspended in his place as his mother sank down into the darkness, slipping further and further away from his reach.

As he felt the coldness completely surrounding him, his head felt like it would explode. The salt burned his nasal cavity as water escaped to his lungs with every failed breath he took and at that second, he felt utterly, completely helpless.

When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t sure if he was grateful that he did.

Mark had dreamt about this many times before, in many variations, often quite different from reality as dreams tend to be. Sometimes he didn’t even see much, just vague images and blurred faces but the feeling was there, and it was enough to make him wake up in a cold sweat.

After his heartbeat calmed down and tears stopped flowing, he left his room to get a glass of water. He was trying to think of something to distract himself and keep him busy the whole night since it was obvious he couldn’t sleep after that. Maybe he could start a new game or a tv show.

Sipping his water with his lower back pressed against the kitchen counter, his eyes got caught on Jackson’s door. There was light seeping through.

Mark decided to act on impulse.

He knocked on the door. He waited. A few beats later, Jackson’s voice told him to come in. He did.

“Do you wanna watch Star Trek with me?”

Jackson raised his eyebrows at him from the chair he was sitting. Mark just stared.

“Okay.”

So they settled on the couch facing the TV, next to each other with a blanket draped over their bodies. Mark put on a random episode and began to explain the concept and introduce the characters to Jackson who knew nothing about the series besides it being “a really old sci-fi show with bad visual effects”. He listened to Mark attentively and was rather enthusiastic about the whole thing. It made Mark talk even more excitedly.

However, Jackson, apparently, wasn’t used to this much comfort and coziness so exhaustion caught up to him as he fell asleep after a few minutes passed, his head slowly falling down on Mark’s shoulder.

Mark didn’t mind.

Minutes passed and Mark got carried in the episode, laughing at something, then he felt Jackson stir and take a deep breath. Jackson, disoriented, raised his head to squint at the TV, then at Mark.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Mark smiled at him. He looked cute with his messy hair and unfocused eyes.

“Noo, ’m watchin’,” he slurred a little.  _ Cute. _ “I wanna watch.”

He snuggled up to Mark again, resting his cheek on his shoulder to get a better view of the screen. Mark hesitantly put his hand on Jackson’s thigh, and when he didn’t say anything he left it there and tried to contain his smile as he watched the episode.

“That guy looks like Jinyoung,” Jackson said suddenly, pointing at one of the aliens. Mark laughed.

“No way, Jinyoung is way more handsome.”

Jackson smirked. “Ooh do you have a crush on him?”

“Everyone’s a little in love with Jinyoung,” Mark shrugged, matching his smirk. “You’ve gotta admit he has that charm. Besides, have you seen his body? It’s insane.”

“How would  _ you _ know about it?”

“You know, we’re sort of old friends. I kinda saw him shirtless a few times.”

“You mean you peeked when he was changing?”

“Maybe.”

Jackson giggled. Mark found himself giggling too, feeling an unfamiliar yet comfortable warmth creeping into his chest.

“Well, maybe we should hang out sometime, the three of us,” Jackson said. “He just came back from New York, I saw him at the funeral earlier. Oh,” he stopped, his smile immediately falling. “Um, our company’s CEO died, so.”

“Yeah, I know. I texted Jaebeom to express my condolences.”

“You know Jaebeom?” he frowned. “Why didn’t you come with me then.”

“I don’t like funerals,” Mark mumbled, turning his gaze back to the paused TV screen. “They make me feel like I should be the one in the casket.” 

He could feel Jackson’s worried gaze on him, and the tone of his voice matched it. “Mark-”

“Let’s just watch the episode,” he said and unpaused the video.

Jackson got quiet again, snuggling up to Mark. It lasted only for a moment, as it was often the case with Jackson.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? It’s only gonna get worse if you bottle it up, you know,” he shifted a little, his arm brushing against Mark’s. “You’re getting nightmares more often these days.”

“How do you know that?”

He felt Jackson’s shoulders move up and down. “I don’t sleep much,” he mumbled.

“Why?” he asked, curious. Did Jackson have nightmares too?

“Days are too short,” he replied, then added: “Don’t change the subject.”

Mark sighed. “Okay,” he said. "I'll tell you." Jackson straightened up to face him. Mark avoided his eyes.

“It was… There was an accident. I lost my family.”

“I’m sorry.”

Mark just nodded. He had heard the response too many times that at this point he was numb to it.

So he told Jackson everything that happened. Everything that he could never tell anyone.

“But that’s not all,” he continued. “I was the one driving. I survived because my window was down and I was a fast swimmer so I could have- I could have saved them. But I couldn’t dive back fast enough- I almost drowned." He let out a shaky sigh. "Maybe I should have.”

Jackson slowly put his hand on Mark’s and lightly squeezed. Mark felt tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat.

“I keep thinking- Why did I have to be the only one? And because of that,” he swallowed, tears flowing down as his voice got quieter by each word. “I used to be angry- at myself, at the world, at everything. Now I'm just tired. So,  _ so  _ tired."

He closed his eyes and let the tears fall when he felt Jackson's arms around him.

“You did everything you could," he murmured in Mark's hair as he softly caressed his back. “I’m glad you’re alive. I’m glad you’re here.”

Mark could feel that he meant it.

They’ve grown to like each other and the more Jackson opened up to him, the more Mark followed. At this point, with his soft caresses, his warmth, and his reassuring words, Jackson made him feel safe.

“Thank you,” he whispered, lips brushing Jackson’s neck, hugging him back tightly. Jackson hummed softly in response and held him as long as he needed.

After Mark calmed down they decided to get some snacks and continue watching the show, Jackson making Mark laugh whenever he could. Towards the end of the episode he got quiet again, and when Mark stole a glance at him he saw Jackson drifting off to sleep now and then again, his cheek pressed into Mark's arm.

“Jackson," he said softly, shaking his arm so he would wake up. "Go sleep in your bed.”

He let out a soft whine. “But it’s cold,” he murmured. “And you’re warm.”

“It’s  _ not _ cold. You’re just being overdramatic,” but then again, Mark thought, Jackson looked more tired than usual today, and he was a bit pale, so what if- “Do you have a fever? Let me check-”

Mark quickly made a whiny Jackson straighten up and face him, then put his palm on his forehead. Jackson, eyes closed, leaned into the touch. He didn’t seem to have a fever, which made Mark relax, then Jackson opened his eyes and looked at him with his big eyes like he was waiting for  _ something _ , and it made Mark tense again.

“Um,” he moved his hand away and cleared his throat. “Your body temperature seems fine.”

“But I’m cold,” Jackson whined again. “My hands-” he reached out and put both his hands on Mark’s cheeks, and yes, they were cold, but it was the last thing Mark was thinking about as they stood closer than ever before, with Jackson’s looking at him  _ again  _ with those eyes, this time like he was  _ asking  _ for something.

“Jackson-” he started, but he must have started wrong because Jackson dropped his hands, first to Mark’s chest, then on the couch. “Jackson,” he tried again, and he caught Jackson’s gaze slipping to his lips for a brief second, and it was enough.

He pulled Jackson to himself by the back of his neck and they crashed like ocean waves crashing on the shore.

He felt Jackson’s hand fisting the hem of his sweater, cold knuckles brushing against his skin. They shared a chaste kiss for a moment, then Jackson sighed against his lips and Mark took this as an encouragement to deepen the kiss. He moved his hand up and felt Jackson shiver when his fingers ran through his hair, coaxing his mouth open at the same time, and Jackson did it so willingly, so easily, but suddenly-

Jackson abruptly broke the kiss, pulling back enough for Mark to miss his breath and the warmth of his body and the coldness of his fingers.

“I-” This time, Mark saw fear in those big eyes- probably for the first time since they met. “I should go to bed.”

He nodded after being stunned for a moment. “Okay.”

But Jackson lingered a little, as if he was not sure if he should say what he was going to say. He said it anyway, very quietly. “You can sleep beside me, if you want. I mean, it can help you sleep, maybe.” Then he shrugged to make it seem like it was not a big deal, his gaze on the floor. “The bed is big enough, so.”

Mark couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.” 

Jackson raised his head to look at him, mirroring his smile with a shy one, and Mark didn’t have to think for long.

After the episode ended, he curled up beside Jackson at the other end of the bed, feeling relaxed at the sound of his calm breathing. He was content with just that but Jackson pulled him closer in his sleep, and they ended up waking up with their legs tangled.

It was the best sleep Mark had gotten in years.


	8. Poison

When they came back from the tour, it was almost midnight and they were tired but Bambam still wanted to take Yugyeom home, because he missed his own bed and he specifically missed fucking Yugyeom on his own bed. Also, he didn’t want to be alone.

So they managed to get a sloppy round of sex going at night -more like half a round as they got impatient and finished with messy handjobs- then slept until noon the next day. Bambam was the first to wake, Yugyeom still breathing softly beside him under the white, heavy comforter. He waited a few minutes for him to wake up, checking his phone in the meantime but then, he got bored.

Bambam thought that Yugyeom should feel lucky to be woken up by him planting lazy, wet kisses all over his body.

“Hi,” Yugyeom said quietly as he stirred awake, a lazy smile on his face.

Bambam kissed his thigh, looking up to him. “Mornin’.” Another kiss- closer to the inner side. “Wanna continue what we started last night?”

Yugyeom nodded.

“Sit up, then.”

He did, and Bambam quickly settled on his lap. Yugyeom twisted his finger around the thin gold chain on his neck and pulled Bambam to himself by it, colliding their mouths together. He nestled his fingers in Yugyeom’s hair, and felt that familiar sigh against his lips. He kissed him harder and rolled his hips until it overwhelmed Yugyeom into breaking the kiss.

This had become a sort of routine for them.

Bambam was tired of groupies and random pretty boys that would just turn out to be gold diggers. Ever since the tour started and he decided to give Yugyeom a chance at the field they kept doing it almost every other night, eventually making an unofficial casual sex deal. It was a good deal: They were both satisfied, it kept Bambam from boredom, and it was… team bonding.

“I need to-”

“Let me.”

Yugyeom took the bottle from Bambam’s hand and poured lube onto his own fingers, pushing them against his entrance and feeling what little stretching he had last night before they gave up. As he worked his fingers, Bambam decided to bite onto the crook of his neck.

Yugyeom always whined about the hickeys, “Think of the poor makeup artists who need to cover these,” he would say. Bambam knew he secretly loved having them, having his marks on his body.

He worshipped Bambam a little, and that was okay. Nothing wrong with that between friends, right?

Well, Bambam didn’t have many friends. He wouldn’t really know.

At worst, Yugyeom had a little crush on him. A tiny, harmless crush. No big deal.

Bambam kissed him as hard as he could, losing himself in the kiss as he pressed his tongue onto Yugyeom’s and bit his lips, swallowing his little gasps and whimpers. It felt right and wrong at the same time. Bambam wouldn’t admit it, but he was a little confused. So he tried not to think.

He thought of himself on stage with Yugyeom beside him. That felt right. He knew it was right.

As Bambam rode him, Yugyeom knew just when to thrust up to meet their hips in a delightful slam, making Bambam let out loud moans, his head dizzy. But it had too much of a pattern, so Bambam realized.

"Don't count," he said. Yugyeom, being a fantastic dancer with an amazing sense of rhythm, was counting the beats. However, Bambam was also a dancer- a better one, if you asked him. "It gets predictable."

"Sorry," was his mumbled response.

Yugyeom was pretty much the same in bed as he was on stage.

He was very precise, his every movement smooth and sharp at the same time. He had the confidence, even though Bambam led him most of the time he knew when to take over, following the flow to give the best experience. He aimed to get a reaction and when he got it, he amped up the performance. Just like he was doing now as the frequency of his thrusts increased, which made Bambam close his eyes and throw his head back with a moan. Satisfied with this reaction, he tipped them over to get on top of Bambam, thrusting harder and faster as he got full control, drawing sobs out of the man under him.

“Like that?” he said under his breath. Bambam replied with a groan.

He slowed down a bit but kept his thrusts hard, leaning down to suck on a sensitive spot on Bambam’s neck, leaving his own marks in return.

It all felt a bit performative. 

But it got him off. They weren't lovers anyway, were they?

They collapsed side by side at the foot of the bed, catching their breath. The sun seeped through the curtains and landed on Yugyeom’s flushed skin, highlighting the marks on his body. Bambam rolled onto his side to look at him. Frowning, he pulled on Yugyeom’s swollen lip with his thumb.

“Ugh, I bruised you again,” he said, sitting up. Yugyeom sat up as well.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not. Stay there.”

Bambam left the bed to get a clean towel and some ice from the kitchen. There wasn’t a solid wall splitting up the apartment except for the bathroom, and the curtains that gave  _ some _ privacy to the bedroom were open all the way, so he felt Yugyeom’s eyes on him the entire time until he came back. He couldn’t blame him, though- he had a magnificent body, after all.

“Next time,” he said slowly as he moved an ice cube along Yugyeom’s bottom lip. “If I hurt you, tell me.” Yugyeom’s eyes looked a bit misty as he stared at Bambam. He gave a tiny nod.

He wrapped the towel around the ice cubes and pressed it against Yugyeom’s lips, then took his wrist to press his hand on the towel, making sure he kept it in place. He was about to leave when Yugyeom spoke.

“Bam.”

“Hm?”

He gently put a hand on Bambam’s cheek.

“I like you,” he said quietly. “A lot.”

Bambam leaned into the touch, then covered Yugyeom’s hand with his own. “I know.”

He offered a small smile before putting Yugyeom’s hand down and leaving the bed. “I’ll hop in the shower. Can you get us something to eat?”

Yugyeom quietly nodded. Bambam pretended not to notice the mist in his eyes growing thicker.

He stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He had missed his apartment, even though a few of the hotels they stayed at had similar setups. Yugyeom often joked about how his apartment looked more like a hotel suite than a home. The modern interior design added to the cold feeling you would get from the usual luxury hotel rooms, so he wasn’t wrong, but he was just teasing, and Bambam would tease him back. “This is how rich people live,” he would say. “Get used to it.”

He remembered Yugyeom pointing out the tiny toiletries when they showered together at a hotel. “We should get some for your apartment,” he had joked. “They would complete the aesthetic.”

Bambam had laughed and had playfully slapped his arm, but his mind was stuck on the way Yugyeom said “ _ we” _ . At the time, Bambam didn’t think he meant it, that Yugyeom didn’t think they were going to start living together or anything. But since then... he had been thinking.

When he got out of the shower he found Yugyeom in the kitchen area, staring blankly at a knife and a half-sliced apple on the cutting board. He asked him if he ordered anything, and Yugyeom seemed to get out of his trance then, going back to cutting apples as he replied that he ordered some pizza and fries. “Cool,” was Bambam’s response as he sat on a stool, drying his hair with a towel in one hand and munching on an apple slice with the other.

Bambam could get used to another presence in his home.

They say never mix business and pleasure, and that was maybe why Bambam didn’t have this kind of relationship with Mark. Or maybe it was because they didn’t have enough time for anything to develop between them. In any way, Bambam knew it was different this time. But different how, he had no idea.

Just then his phone on the island vibrated and he frowned at the caller ID, because why the hell was Mark calling him all of a sudden? If he had believed in a god, he would think it was a divine intervention or something.

After a minute or so of somewhat awkward small talk, Mark got to the point

“Jackson and I were talking and we decided that I’ve been out of work for too long,” he laughed softly. There was another voice behind, encouraging Mark to go on. Bambam didn’t hear him clearly but it must have been Jackson. “And I’ve always wanted to try modelling, so, we thought, with your own brand and your connections, you might find some gigs for me, you know? As a favor.”

“Oh,” Bambam was sort of relieved that the call turned out to be a simple one. “Sure, I could make some calls.”

“Really?” He could almost see Mark beaming at him. “You’re awesome, Bam! Thanks!”

Bambam said "No sweat," in a manner of a superhero saving the day yet again.

He hung up the phone, and turned his attention to Yugyeom again. “That was Mark,” he said, and Yugyeom’s eyes widened. Bambam raised an eyebrow at him. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“I’m- It’s just-” Yugyeom looked flustered, stumbling over his words. He usually got like this when confronted, so Bambam didn’t think anything about it. “I just thought you guys didn’t speak that much anymore.”

“Well, he’s an old friend,” he shrugged. “Our parents knew each other.”

“Oh.” He blinked.

Then their food arrived.

They ate their food while watching a dumb reality show, and it felt good just casually hanging out like this, even if Bambam knew it wasn't going to last for long, because it never did.

The truth was, Bambam never had many friends. He didn't know how to make friends, or how to keep them. He never had a serious relationship either, it always ended with either him getting bored too quickly or the other boy not being able to handle his ego.

Bambam was tired of always being alone.

"Do you mind staying tonight too?" he asked shyly after the episode they were watching ended. It was one of the few moments he had ever been shy about anything. "I've kinda gotten used to being around big crowds every other night and it's just… it's too quiet here."

Yugyeom looked really torn for a moment, then sighed.

“I can’t. In fact,” he checked the time on his phone. “I should probably head out.”

Bambam kind of guessed that Yugyeom wouldn’t stay. He may have had pizza and watched TV but he knew they wouldn’t have sleepovers like teenage girls where they cry at romantic movies and paint each other’s nails. And they wouldn’t do anything couples do either. They didn’t even really hang out except for work or sex, but Bambam thought Yugyeom would like it if they did. Bambam  _ hoped _ he would, because he liked being around him too. But maybe he was wrong.

“So you’re running away from me now?” He realized he sounded a bit desperate only after the words came out. He didn't want to lose Yugyeom. He wanted to keep him.

"No, it’s not that,” Yugyeom quickly shook his head. “I just have an errand to run."

"Oh? On your first day back home?"

"Yeah, I've been putting it off for a while.” For a second, Yugyeom’s unfocused eyes had a dangerous glint in it. When he looked at Bambam again, it was gone. He gave a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It's time to finally do it."

Bambam thought Yugyeom was a very confusing boy.

* * *

In Hollywood movies, in order to sabotage a car and cause an accident, they usually just cut the brake lines. This is both unprofessional and wrong.

To start a manual car, you need to step on both the clutch pedal and the brakes. So if you cut the brake lines, even on the off chance that the dashboard light doesn’t go off, the driver will know something is wrong as soon as they try to start the car. That wouldn't work. 

You need them to start the car, go for a few miles, get fast enough. You need them to get into a situation where they need to slam on the brakes, because the road was empty and they accelerated as far as the speed limit allowed, maybe a little faster, and now a car stopped in front of them at a red light. You need them to casually step on the brake pedal, something they've done several times the past half an hour, and when they realize the car doesn't slow down, not even a bit, they panic and try and try again, but it won't work.

You need them to crash, or burn, or do a somersault, or drown.

You need it to look like an accident.

To sabotage a car's brakes without the driver noticing it, you need to mess with the brake fluid. 

If you empty the tank, the same thing with the brake lines happens, and the driver is aware that the brakes won't work. If you only put water, it vaporizes too easily, too soon, before the car even gets far enough, and the light goes off again.

The best way is not completely replacing it but changing the consistency so that it has more water than other liquids, stuff that have a much higher boiling point. So that it would vaporize fast enough but not too fast. So that when it gets low enough, the brakes would stop working.

And then, scene.

This wasn't the first time Yugyeom did this.

The underground parking lot had enough cameras but the security guard overseeing them wasn't paid enough to actually care, so with the help of a little distraction it was relatively easy for Yugyeom to walk in with his face hid behind his trusty black cap, waltz in and out of the blind spots and temporarily blind the only camera pointed at the car he needed to work on, without being seen.

It was an old car, because rich people were obsessed with classic cars for some reason, and some of them die because of that obsession. Yugyeom didn't care for the brand or the model, but did enough research to know where to find what. To his luck, he didn't even need to open the car doors, although he came prepared with a copy of the key. He came prepared for a lot of things.

He got behind the propped open hood, safely hidden from the camera or any potential passersby, and took out necessary equipment from his backpack. He uncapped the reservoir and used a plastic tube to drain it out into an empty plastic bottle, sucking on its other end to siphon the liquid and accidentally getting some in his mouth which he quickly spit out. Then, he filled the reservoir with his own mix that had just the right amount of water and brake fluid in it.

He knew the owner hadn’t driven this car, or any car, himself for a long time, but he still used this car from time to time if someone else was driving, someone he trusted. Yugyeom was probably putting whoever unlucky person would drive it next in danger too. It was a risk that had to be taken.

Otherwise, his plan wouldn’t work. Would Yugyeom allow him to stick his nose in their lives again, just when things were starting to go like Yugyeom wanted?

No. He had to go.

Out of their lives. For good this time.

He replaced the reservoir cap. Put his things back into the backpack. Closed the hood. Pulled his cap down to his face, and began to walk away.

He didn’t think of the car’s owner. He only thought about Bambam.

He thought about the sun flooding through the giant windows in his bedroom, reflecting from the sweat on his skin. He thought of the shimmer of his gold necklaces adorned in diamonds as if they are not worthy enough by themselves, of his shiny lips after he licked them, of the reflection on the knife in his kitchen that looked very inviting as Yugyeom tried to gather his scattered mind.

Then he thought about their time on tour, not just on stage but also after, when Bambam dragged him to local clubs every other night, and Yugyeom didn’t want to go but he had to because he couldn’t leave Bambam alone. But after a few nights like that, Bambam started inviting him to his room, and it was worth it.

He thought about the first night it happened- They were at this club, sitting at a booth and doing shots because of some silly occasion Bambam made up because he was bored. He thought about watching Bambam as he took tequila shots, his tongue darting out to lick the salt around the shot glass, then the grimace on his face when he drank the liquid, followed by his mouth sucking on a slice of lemon. He did it messily, laughing as he licked around his lips. Yugyeom thought he was being tortured.

He had a feeling that Bambam knew exactly what he was doing to Yugyeom.

After a few shots like this that left Yugyeom staring at him, unable to even blink, "You know what we should do?" he said with a mischievous smirk on his face. "Body shots."

He didn’t wait for an answer but it didn’t matter, Yugyeom would of course say yes. Of course he would make Bambam’s every wish his command. So Bambam gathered the salt stuck to the glass with his finger and smeared it along his collarbone, then put the lime wedge between his teeth and lied down on the table with the shot placed on below his ribs just where the deep v cut of his transparent shirt ended, all the while not breaking eye contact. Then, he pulled Yugyeom by the back of his head.

Yugyeom remembered being too drunk and caught up in the moment to think about the articles that would come out from that because surely someone took a picture of him all over Bambam, trailing his tongue over his skin, hands not quite touching where they want to but hanging too close to there, mouths also too close as he leaned down to take the lime wedge. But in the morning when he saw the buzz it created, he was afraid Bambam would be mad. 

On the contrary, Bambam looked satisfied with it. Unfortunately, his joy fell gradually within the day, as he checked his phone more and more frequently but apparently didn’t get the notification he wanted to. Yugyeom figured it must have been about his parents.

It planted a seed of doubt in Yugyeom’s mind, and he felt uneasy. Maybe all this had nothing to do with Yugyeom, it was just for attention. Anyone could fill the same role.

So one morning on their day off, after a lazy blowjob he gave, he had asked, “Were you like this with Mark too?”

“Casually fucking? No, we never did.” Bambam’s answer came too easy for it to be a lie. But he slightly frowned. “I’m not sure why though, he’s quite attractive, and  _ very much  _ into men.” 

“Mark?” Yugyeom raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?” Bambam scoffed. 

“Did you not see how he was looking at your brother?”

Yugyeom frowned.

The truth was, Yugyeom knew Mark even before they officially met through Youngjae. After graduating high school Yugyeom didn’t let go of his crush that easily. It was the longest time Yugyeom didn’t get bored of something, and the fire that was created in him only intensified more by the time. He wondered what would happen when it reached its peak. So, he followed his obsession. Both figuratively and literally.

He found out Bambam had a dancing crew and was taking stage here and there, so Yugyeom followed them around town the best he could with his limited allowance and curfew. He took a few beatings for it when he came home too but it was worth it. Because he got to see him. More importantly, he got to see him  _ on stage _ , where he was nothing short of a god.

Seeing him on stage made Yugyeom sure that Bambam was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. So he decided there and then.

He had to have him.

No matter what it takes.

He suddenly felt nauseous. Maybe he accidentally swallowed some of the brake fluid. He tried to think of something else.

He thought about the past two months, about the tour and after. He thought about his unexpected progress.

He thought of the sharp pain in his scalp as Bambam pulled on his hair when Yugyeom sucked him off- not to control him, just to hold onto something, and because Yugyeom  _ liked  _ it. His blissed out face: closed eyes, knitted brows, hitched breaths and soft moans escaping his parted lips. Then, their brushing thighs as he rode Yugyeom, and his bruising kisses- even those that split open his lips. Even those that left marks Yugyeom whined about not being able to cover up. 

Yugyeom felt drunk on it- drunk on  _ him. _

He had always been, only the intensity changed. But Bambam wasn’t always like this.

Why did he suddenly change? Why was he keeping him this close around? Why were they regularly having sex, almost more regular than their workout schedules?

It was so confusing for Yugyeom, to the point that he wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore.

He thought about his reflection on the kitchen knife. He remembered thinking how easy it would be to stick that into flesh, slowly, feeling the meat and tissue tear away inch by inch. How easy it would be to remove the object of desire out of the equation, after all, the pain of unmet desire wouldn’t exist if there was nothing to desire after. So, it was the best outcome if the object was unattainable.

Because what if this was as close as he could ever get? 

What if he could never have him, and someone else would?

Then  _ he  _ called, who Yugyeom thought was already in the past, not relevant to Bambam's life anymore.

No. He couldn’t leave it to chance.

Whatever it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloo!! im back sooner than i expected hehe but idk if the next will be quick like this one so we'll see  
> can't believe we're halfway done, wow... i've never finished any story in my life and im determined this one will be the first lmao  
> as always, comments and feedback are appreciated<3 and thanks for reading!


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